My very first home.

This is going to be hard but I'll try.
I had lived in that house from Oct. 1933 to May '44. (My recent visit of 2006)
The rooms were all still there and the room in front of which they placed a chair for me to sit for a cup of tea is the one I am going to talk about.
This is a large room where there were a lot of big suitecases and trunks stored. It leads to the stairs to go up where we had another large room used by the family as sleeping quarters. I will not talk about other rooms or places though there are a lot of things I could recall about every door and place in our old house, my very first home.
Most of the children born were kept in this room downstairs for the health and well-being of the new baby and new mother. I am sure I must have opened my eyes into this world in that room (All were home deliveries by the experienced hands of a midwife whose name I remember as "Rukmani Bai"). With my back to the door to this room I was looking at the "kitchen". where I used to go summoned by my older sister who would offer me something to eat when my mother would not offer me anything other than the "okra" (Bhindi) cooked for everybody else.
"God has made all these vegetables for us to eat why dont you eat?, my mother was harsh with me on such occasions. Strange as it may sound now that is one of my favorite veget. dish.
My older sisters were not the only ones who "mothered" me. It is a long story but I have to tell briefly, here before going further.
Between Feb. and May of '44, I was left alone in the house along with my older brother, his wife and kids (Just a couple of years younger than me was his oldest daughter and I played with my niece and nephew). Let me call him "caretaker" a person who was given my charge by my mother so that I was properly fed and looked after during these months. He took real good care of me no doubt. He will see to it I ate well, went to school in time and got back from playgrounds in time etc. He would make sure I get a proper bath (I was 10 years old and insisted I can take my bath but he would give me bath anyway. He would come to the playgrounds if I got late and get hold of my ear to punish for not coming back in time.
Make no mistake, he loved me very much indeed. He would then also make sure I drink milk after I got back but he was apprehensive in case other children or my sister-in-law would see that I was being given milk (while other children were not). So he would ask me to come into that room and in one corner give me the"katora" (a small bowl, we had not yet started the use of glasses, I guess) half full of milk cold and containing some "malai" (not my liking at all) He would put some sugar and with his forefinger dissolve it (teaspoons were not available and moreover the finger is handy and readily available to do the job) and would offer me lovingly. I did not care for that milk much (I still dont) but had to gulp it down to make him happy. He was only trying to make sure I will appear "healthy" when I get to my mother after 4 months. Did my mother give him instructions how to look after me? I was to find later that it was totally his philosophy of love especially for all the children of his "Bhabi" (that is how he addressed my mother. May Allah bless his soul and award him (Kakkaji, that is how we all addressed him) Paradise.
It is remarkable how much I could remember of my first 10 years of life in that home but I'll stop here I guess.

Travel Options

My first leg of travel was to London. Nothing unusual, I have been there many times. I wanted to 'roam' around so I thought it 'll be cool to get a car. Have done that before but more recent experience has been they are prohibitively expensive so I found out it was cheaper to book it on line-that's exactly what I did. A cool 17 pounds something per day (About35 dollars or so) and I got on the bus from the airport to go to the "thrifty" car hire people
That it was going to be a unique experience, I had not anticipated at all. A youngman sitting across the counter (appeared Asian which does not necessarily excite me any more) asked my name etc. and looked at the computer for a while and sitting back started telling me
"Sir, you have three options", in perfect British accent. "What are they?" I enqured.
"Sir you need to get an Insurance." Perfectly logical, a thought that had slipped my mind, so I agreed and he announced,
"That would cost about 19 pounds something/day". I was displeased at the expense but with a slight hesitation I agreed. I thought that this was not so bad after all
Then there was the second option. I thought I had chosen a good option out of three, now what?
So he started expalining that I am over 70 and therefore the insurance surcharge will be 10 pounds a day more.
Now I could not resist expressing my displeasure. That is not an "Option" I said I cannot reduce my age no matter how young I to look and no matter how "undemented" I appear to be. He insisted this was an option and still wanted me to understand that I cant hire the car unless I paid the extra penulty of being over 70 in age.
I started thinking about the thrifty business and how I started from 18 pounds and adding 30 pounds more perday totalling close to a hundred dollars a day. Is it thrifty?
Did I have that kind of money? It was evident that I was trapped and so I thought there was no option for me but to agree.
Then came the third "Option" which took me completely off the ground but I was not frothing at the mouth. I had to have Insurance on my MasterCharge Card. Never heard of it before. He said' "Since you are a foriegner and the card must be covered with an insurance in case something happens to the car or you"
I tried to argue that the insurance coverage of 30 pounds a day is enough to cover for the car but he kept on with that third 'option'
To cut the story short, I asked"Is there an option of cancelling my car?"
He was hesitant and said he will inquire from his boss (another Asian-looking) who then came to explain to me the same thing. How could I tell him I have treated senile and other types of demntias in my life and am clean and healthy in my "upper story". They must have thought I am an old man from India with a white beard etc. and unable to undertand English. All this while I had told them I cannot hear very good but I had no problem hearing about the "Options".
I said these are not "Options" in my language of English that I had learnt.
"It will cost you 25 pounds to cancel."
I had a sigh of relief and got out of the office as quickly as I could, lest some other "option" may come my way.

travelogue

This is a most rewarding and unusual experience of travel and I must write something.

With feelings of apprehension and uneasiness I started my journey for my " Janam-bhoomi" (Birth place) Skipping my experience via Pakistan where I am quite familiar going and coming etc. for the past 40+ years I started from Lahore for Dehli (Yes I am going to spell it like this and not like the English people) The flight was good with clear skies and in less than an hour I landed at that famous city (Indira Gandhi International airport) I may not be familiar with the whole history but there are these twin cities "Nai Dilli" (New Dehli) and "Purani Dilli" (Old Dehli). I had gone through the Google earth to view this city but could not really see what it would mean to be there in person. It has been ran-sacked by many a Kings and Emperors in the past and it was soon after one such destruction of the city when a poet of high stature was asked to present his poem in another city and because his clothes were dishevelled and he did not look great there may have been some comments which he disliked so he gave an extempore couplet like this:
Kia bood-o-bash poocho ho poorab kay saakino
humko ghreeb jaankay hans-hans pukar kay
Dilli jo ayk shahr tha aalam main intikhaab
rahtay thay muntakhab he jahan roozgaar kay
usko falak nay loot kay veeran kar dia
hum rehnay waly hain usee ujday dayar kay
There was so much uproar and appreciation after that so he could present his poem.
And of course they tried to get him back on stage, he would not come again.
Well I had the most apprehension there would be nobody to recieve me though I had expected a Mr. Shaheen-ur-Rahman to see me. As I got out and saw people standing waiting for the newcomers I found nobody of the Shaheen kind so I sat down wondering where he would be.
Perplexed what to do next wandering here and there not getting out of the airport I was approached by somebody and I got ready to be robbed. He was kind to ask who was I looking for and I did have the telephone number so he offered his cellphone (called mobile in the rest of the world) He talked with Shaheen who was out side and he started taking me out. Now,
I have marked degree of hearing loss so I did not hear what he said but started following him still worrying and wondering what was going to happen.
As we got out I saw many people standing waiting for their loved ones and Shaheen saw me and waved. (Mery jaan main jaan aayi). I wanted to pay the fellow who helped me and so I thanked him and offered him a five-rupee note that he declined (Not knowing why, I made no further attempts).
I had cashed some dollars and pounds into Indian money that I saw for the first time
(All Gandhiji as opposed to all Quaid-e-Azam of Pakistan) You see this was the first time after more than sixty two years that I was in India.
I reflected some on these pics the two great leaders of the subcontinent being honored like this which brought back some of my memories of early Pakistani money, the coins and the notes (bills) how it felt to be in the newly created Pakistan and the jubilations and mourings etc. associated with all the riots and killings of innocent people. The horrors of independence, the price being paid? in the blood of the innocents. No leader had anticipated that.
Well it did not take long for me to get into the logistics of getting 'home' with Shaheen he is the nephew of Dr. Shamimur-Rahman of Raleigh and son of Dr. Mujeebur-Rahman a retired physician living in Dehli in modern-like appartments of Dehli. Our van reached through all kind of kachcha and pucca roads the gates of the building were locked and were opened for us (Security) Dr. Mujeeb told me about 80% of residents in these apartments are Muslims.
I was new for Dr. Mujeeb and his family but they were awefully kind people who put me up for the night and fed me etc. Next day we had some time before my flight to Bhopal so we decided to go to visit just one place- Jamia Masjid Dehli.
We started from home and found many cycle and motor-cycle rickshaws. This was my very first confrontation with human-powered rickshaw (other than what I had observed in movies and photographs) and Mujeeb saheb asked me to get on the cycle-rickshaw (quite in a matter of fact way) ,so, with a slight degree of hesitation that went un-noticed by him I helped myself on it and then Mujeeb saheb also got on and the skinny fellow started cycling while I was wondering how much he earns like this and I saw many others like him with even three people sitting. I am glad that this rickshaw is prohibited in Pakistan.
We got to the "Dwarka" station of the new underground of Dehli, neat and clean and very modern indeed. We got off at the "Chandni chowk" station, there was that familiar rush of people here and we got out to get another cycle rickshaw to get to the Masjid and on our way I saw the the famous Lal Qila (red fort) from outside, and snapped a quick photograph.
Smaller version of the badshahi mosque of Lahore with the domes less clean and frequented more by the ever present pigeons. There was one marble platform made (where the "sehn" begins) elevated, was it for the king?, I dont know.
I bought Khuffain (Leather mozay) at this masjid as the leather was written to be "Kaanpuri" (For those who dont know, Kaanpuri leather is legendary)
Flight to Bhopal was uneventful. Jet airways have good courteous staff of handsome stewards (sardaars possibly because I saw a Kada on one hand) While wondering who would be there to recieve me I had no idea they were all there and were all just as excited to see me as I was when I saw my old friend Haleem. There was his son, Ishaq's son from Sagar and Apa Ahmadi, almost 80 year old with an enrgy of 50 year old and sharp lady, widow for forty years (Sajjad bhai from Kalay phupha had died of TB perhaps) She let me know in no uncertain terms, I was to stay with her and "Bhabi wabhi naheen chalaiga (Because I called her bhabi), main behen hoon, tum maray bhai ho" Told me she had been praying for some brother to come to see her. She would have carved out my whole program had I not interrupted her that I needed to see my friend in Sagar also. Poor Haleem could not force his friendship with me at all, and had to agree to Ahmadi apa as I started callimg her and Shahid (Jakkoo's son) called her great Baji.
I had spray lotion for the mosquitos that helped. After breakfast we started for the train to Bina Junction where I was recieved by the other brothers of Shahid and we spent the night in Bina. I met Dr. Bansi and visited his clinic in the evening a nice place for the patients along with XRay, Lab and such facilities, his wife being Ob-gyn. Bansi was a Gwaliar graduate and has expressed his keen-ness to meet with me. I made it to the grave of My friend and playmate and bhateeja in relation, may be a year older than me, S. Zakir Ali (Jakkoo).
Zakir had always written to me in very hindi type English when he was a foreman in the railways. Before his death he had visited Pakistan and talked to me on phone inviting me to India. I was just too late to get to India, May his soul be blessed by Allah.
Next day finally the train got me to Saugor (That is the way the English spelt it and the station name was spelt like that still, and now you know my blog name spelling) The boys got me in the rickshaw and we were at the "Sabhlok" hotel that was OK for me for two days (770 rupees). It was within walking distance of the Jamia Masjid so I could pray there Fajr namaz daily. Talked with the Imam and the masjid committee people who told me the Masjid had lot of property in addition to "our house" and lot of rental income etc. so I did not need to give any donation but I told them I can help whenever there is need and left my address and phone number with them. They had heard of my father's name but were all younger than me so they had not actually seen him or met him who was instrumental in converting that masjid into Jamiah masjid. The humble beginnings of that mosque were started by somebody "Khuda Bakhsh" in 1801)
I visited our old house inhabited by some tenants, took some pictures of the old kitchen, the roof some rooms each with so many memories for me etc. It will have to be a separate story.
Visit to the "Talaab", the body of water, not used for anything now but the ghaat where I first learnt my swimmimg with the help of Afzal Bhaijan, I had to visit
I walked after next Fajr through the "Katra" bazaar remembering all the events of my childhood, my schools, "teen-Batti" (even though now there is only one batti) and up to the 'kotwali' and back. While standing with Shahid and talking about my fifth grade school somebody overheard and came over to introduce himself that he was also a graduate of the school in 1956. I told him I was in that school in '44. Then Shahid told him I was the son of Maulvi Charaghuddin. He became excited, "I used to deliver milk in their house when I was little, I am Madan Gopal" and made a warm handshake.
I visited with my old classmate Ishaq and was surprised by another person "Faizul-Islam" who told me he was also my classmate and we talked about our old teachers (Jumman Janabji and Master Razzaq) and those days of primary classes.
Thus ended my visit to my birth place after an interval of more than 62 years. Reminds me of this persian couplet:
Haif der chashm-e-zadan suhbat-e-yaar aakhir shud
Roo-e-gul sair nadeedaim o bahaar aakhir shud
(Woe! the visit with my friend ended in a blink's time: we had not had enough fragrance of the flower yet ,(Not seen the face enough- actual wording) and the spring time ended.)
Was in Bhopal for the next two nights in a hotel and visited my friend Haleem and of course Ahmadi Apa and her daughter etc. Haleem's was quite a story of how he struggled after partition to educate himself to be a qualified lawyer. They were all at the airport again to see me off for Dehli.
I had never imagined I will have so many loving friends and relatives of mine who were saying goodbye with tears in their eyes. I also knew in my heart, it was the last time I will be seeing them though they kept asking me to come back with my family again. How would I make another plan for such an undertaking?