Life is going on now. This morning when I was sitting quietly with my cuppa a thought came to my mind - love brings with it all positive aspects of human nature. A person who loves has compassion, forgiveness, kindness, flexibility, morality, ethical sense, abundance of joy and goodness, shares with all and sundry, and is totally immune to all negative energies.  So why not pray to God to drench the whole universe and every soul with love, love and love.  If each one of us has this prayer in his or her lips and heart every moment of every day the world will become a better place.  So here is praying to be drenched in love and only love from hereon.  God be with us all.

Life as a divorcee

Before proceeding with the details below I should like to talk about what happened last night and this morning.  Some words spoken by a family member hurt me at the core and I could think of nothing except to end my life.  I went through my routine activities as usual (habits die hard), while all the time I was contemplating the swiftest way to end my life.  Won’t go into the gory details but yes when I lay down I prayed it would be my last sleep on this earth. I even wrote a mail to a close friend saying – I do not wish to see another light of day.  I did not die in the night, woke up, said my prayers silently in bed as usual and the first thought that came to my mind was that of Savarkar and his prison cell in Cellular Jail.  You can see a picture of it on this site:  http://www.tripadvisor.in/LocationPhotos-g297584-d499995-w4-Cellular_Jail-Port_Blair_South_Andaman_Island_Andaman_and_Nicobar_Islands.html#last   I had been to the jail in 1971 with my flight crew (I was an airhostess with Indian Airlines once upon a time) and had seen the pitch black cell where the freedom fighter had been imprisoned.  God reminded me of something I had seen more than 40 years ago – why?  To let me know to be careful of what I wish for (not see another light of day?).  I am grateful for this lesson.  Another thing that I think I understood is that when a person commits suicide it is because of some terribly deep hurt which triggers the fatal action. 

Now going back to my life as a divorcee – it was not a breeze and neither was it all misery.  It was a package deal and taught me a few lessons in life.

1.  Society at large does not sympathise with a divorcee but can have empathy for even a shady widow.

2. A divorcee is taken to be an easy lay by men, because she has just left a man and is presumably looking for a new bed partner.  The approaches have been overtly crude and direct at times.

3. A divorcee is generally shunned at social gatherings by married women of her age – their fear that the divorcee is out to grab their husbands.  Slowly you start feeling like an outcast.  Young unmarried men would be tarred if seen talking to a divorcee and the family would bend backwards to get him married off to a suitable virgin.       

4. I also made good friends of both the sexes during this period, friends who stood by me without wanting anything in return.  I am still in touch with those who are still alive.  

5. Being a divorcee also meant having a price tag rumoured around in hushed voices.  But life still went on. 

   

I remember the evening I left the above address – I had put our personal belongings and the kids into the taxi and turned to say something to Rooma.  But I could not stop myself from saying “God bless you” and rushed inside the cab and drove off.  This is the gate where I took my leave while the yoga classes were still going on the left side.  The house in the extreme right is the one bequeathed to the grandsons; the first floor to my brother-in-law’s 2 sons and the second floor to my 2 sons, even before they were born, by their grandmother, late Ava Rani Bose, who died on 2^nd July 1976. 

I stayed at my parents’ for the first month with my little daughter as I had admitted my 2 sons into KNH (German) contributed concession boarding in St. Thomas School, Kidderpore.  My parents were sympathetic and the relations became over-sympathetic (very uncomfortable).  Questions were raised in seeming concern and I grabbed the invitation from a friend in Delhi to spend sometime with her.  When my daughter (who I had to admit in St. Thomas School for girls) and I returned from Delhi my mother said relatives were worried about my younger sister’s chances of getting good marriage proposals with a divorced elder sister in the same house.   It hit me like a ton of bricks, added to the fact that I would be asked to attend weddings in the family circle as an after thought like – ‘you must also come with your children’, were just plunging the painful dagger deeper into my heart.  I also understood my mother’s predicament and as luck would have it I came across an old friend who was looking for a flat mate.  By this time I had acquired a job and my parents wanted my daughter to stay back with them, so things started to fall in place albeit slowly. 

First we put up in small place in south Calcutta and then we were able to find a wonderful ground floor flat in cornfield road.  The elderly landlady Mrs.Guha just wanted to meet our parents before the final deal was made.  So my mother and my friend’s father arrived on the given date and we became legal tenants in a great locality. 

The locality mattered to me a lot because I did not want my kids to come home and mix with undesirable children; so even if the rent was high my friend and I felt happy and compromised on other things.  Like on food and some avoidable luxuries till such time when my kids came on holidays.  My friend’s son would visit us sometimes as he lived with his paternal grandparents and aunt who doted on him.

A couple of times when we (my friend and I) could afford it we took the children to the nearby Chandipur sea beach.  Visits to the Calcutta Zoo, New Market, and Park Street especially in Christmas time and relatives’ homes were also frequent.  The point was to keep life as near normal as possible for my children.  I still do not know whether I have been successful in my endeavours.    

During this time my job required me to visit certain places in South India and in the bargain got to see the Tirupati temple (evenings are out of this world with the voice of Lata Mangeshkar reciting the stotras on the public system all over the hills) and the Meenakshi temple.  I also had the fortune to socialise with certain Maharajas and Maharanis.  Yes life was not all that bad. 

Coming back to reality practical everyday life was becoming harassing, in spite of loyal friends.  It was 1985 (3 years as a divorcee gone by) and I met George Shalom.  A most ordinary, hardworking, divorced person and we soon tied the knot.  The foremost thought on my mind was to provide a normal home to my children.  My friend too settled down with someone who had a similar background.  The story from here is long, eventful, tearful, joyful – a roller-coaster ride.        

Moral Courage!?

                                                        Moral Courage

Buddha Bose – A Peek into the Past

April 1983 saw the passing away of a great yoga pioneer of Calcutta, maybe of India.  Buddha Bose passed away quietly in a Calcutta hospital at the ripe age of beyond seventy years.  He had cured many an illness through yoga and quietly tried to make it a popular choice for cure among the ordinary citizens of India for more than forty decades before he closed his eyes. 

I knew him from 1973 to 1982 and had the good fortune to be quite close to him because I was his eldest daughter-in-law.  I am in the evening of my life, maybe even twilight and felt this urge to write some memoirs of people who influenced me in some ways – Buddha Bose (Baba) was one of them.  Whatever is written here is what I can remember from his narration of his life in small snippets and at that time I had decided to write about his childhood and emergence as yoga expert.  He had been quite excited about the prospect, but unfortunately, life had more in store for me before I could put pen to paper seriously.   

He was born to an English mother and an Indian, Bengali father.  His mother was a niece to the then archbishop of Canterbury; her maiden name was Amy Johnson.  His father’s name was Raja Bose, a resident of north Calcutta, who had gone to England to study.  Raja Bose became enthralled by Houdini and his magic tricks and worked as an assistant on the stage for sometime.  Amy Johnson fell in love with the dashing Raja Bose on one such magic show.    

Raja Bose had been married at home to a Bengali girl before he departed for England; obviously he was not happy with the arranged alliance and the marriage was not consummated or so it seems.  Where and how Amy Johnson and Raja Bose got married was never revealed by Baba but before sailing back to India the couple became proud parents to a daughter and a son.  The daughter, Poppy was the first child and Baba was the second child born to Raja and Amy Bose. 

Baba had said that on reaching Calcutta port his English mother, his sister and he were put up at the Great Eastern Hotel by his father before he went home.  Every morning from the next day on Raja Bose would take the hackney carriage to come to the hotel and spend time with his family.  Evenings he would return to his home duly.  These daily excursions aroused suspicion in Buddha Bose’s grandfather, who made it a point to follow his son one day.  After discovering that he was already a grandfather to two beautiful grandchildren, he brought the mother and two kids to live with the family in the family home. 

Soon a younger brother David was born and on the same day a boy, Ambar was born to the Bengali wife of Raja Bose.  Apparently, Baba’s English mother could not digest this fact and insisted on returning to England.  She wrote to her father, who sent a two penny coin and expressed his feelings with the sentence – “I care tuppence for you.” As Amy Bose was determined to go back to England her Indian father-in-law arranged the fare but requested for one of the grandchildren to be left behind with him – Buddha Bose was chosen to remain with his grandfather.  His mother refused to keep her daughter with the Indian family as she did not expect them to bring up a girl properly and David was too small to be separated from his mother.  Baba said he was only three and a half years old at that time when he was left behind by his mother.  

Baba said he was distraught and upset at the departure of his mother but the Bengali mother took him under her wing and looked after him as her own.  He was British fair and his skin pigmentation stood out among the darker Indians wherever he went.  The color became a stigma as in those days most Hindu Indians considered anyone outside their particular caste as rejects or ‘mlechhas’.  So when young Buddha Bose went to friends’ place he was made to stand outside the house; if he requested for water he would be served in a copper tumbler which would be thrown in the dustbin after he drank.  Events took a nasty turn when he with his half-brother, Ambar, went to the Bengali mother’s parental home on some invitation.  As is usual in such occasions, the children were made to sit down to dinner before the adults were served; Baba sat down to eat with the other kids.  The Bengali mother’s elder brother came to check on the serving and found young Buddha sitting among the children; he got furious and pulled him by his ears and shouted how he dare sit with the rest at the same table.  Baba said this incident brought out the ferocious maternal instincts in his Bengali mother who took hold of both the kids and rushed out, never to go back to her parents’ place again.  

Baba was growing up in the family home but some things disturbed him to the extent he decided to leave home.  He said he would feel terribly frustrated to witness his father’s violent eruptions on his Bengali mother at nights when he would come home drunk.  Baba felt helpless as he could not intervene or stop the daily madness. By this time Baba had become acquainted with Bishnu Charan Ghosh and his body building and yoga culture.  He found a place to stay at the Ghosh’s College of Physical Education and excelled in the physical expositions.  It is here he also came to know Swami Yogananda, elder brother of Bishnu Charan Ghosh. 

Baba’s life took a turn for the better from here.  He joined the Calcutta Corporation and received a salary of one rupee and soon even managed to start a business named “Amerind”.  His sanitary ware business took him to America and England quite often and in one of these trips he had gone to meet his English mother.  It must have been an intensely emotional moment in his life because Baba stopped relating anything further that day to me; he was choked with emotions. 

Later Baba told me how his mother survived with his sister and brother in an England where she was rejected by the church as well.  Amy Bose found shelter in an attic room above a shop where she worked for the owners.  As the children were still small she had to lock them up in the room while she went to work.  Baba never told me if and when Poppy and David became Christians, neither am I aware of other details of their lives, except they were married with children.  I met David’s son Geoffrey when he came to Calcutta on his way to England from Zambia, he resembled my husband Ashok strongly. 

Meanwhile, Bishnu Charan Ghosh’s eldest daughter, Ava Rani was in her early teens and the family was looking for a proper match for the budding youngster.  After looking high and low for the perfect groom, it dawned on Ava Rani’s grandfather that the ideal match was right under their nose – Buddha Bose.  There was a good gap of fifteen years between the prospective bride and groom but the alliance was made with everyone’s blessings.  Baba and Mamoni (Ava Rani Bose) lived their entire married life at the same house, where they also had three children – two boys and one girl.      

Baba continued doing his business and in one of his flights back to India, the Panam Airlines plane crashed into the Beirut desert and burst into flames.  The horror was still evident in his eyes while he related the accident.  He said when he came to he realized he was immobilized and quite sunken into the hot desert sand; he looked around to see his co-passenger Mr.Goenka was also in a similar state.  Fire was raging, people were screaming, he could hear the painful cries of small kids who were also traveling in the plane.  All of a sudden he saw the notorious Beirut bandits emerge from nowhere on horses and start looting the completely helpless passengers.  He still remembered how the bandits snatched the earrings off a woman’s ears while she was burning and crying out for help.  He also remembered how a pregnant woman’s stomach burst and threw out the unborn baby.      

The accident damaged Baba’s spine and Mr.Goenka’s leg.  The airlines managed to rescue the surviving passengers and did everything possible to heal the injured.  Ultimately, the American doctors provided Baba with a belt to support his spine and to be worn for the rest of his life. 

On his return to India and home, Baba was constrained and could not continue with his work as before.  He said at this point he felt the urge to go to Kailas Mansarovar; a dangerous mission in those days, both as a route and also because it was in Chinese territory.  He managed to reach Kailas Parvat.  His said one day he sat in meditation for hours without wearing the belt and as usual went to bathe in the freezing water.  He finished his bath and just walked on to his tent and did not realize he was not wearing the belt until his helper and guide pointed it out.  Baba said ever since then he did not need to wear the belt and stored it carefully. 

Baba went back to Kailash and Mansarovar many times after that and even filmed one of his pilgrim trips.  He even held private shows in the city on his return for many of the Calcutta residents, who were awed to see the holy place in reels.  Rumors were abounding in those days that some foreigner had filmed it and this Bengali was taking the credit.  Unfortunately, people were not aware of Baba’s English blood line and his skin color, so in a scene where his hand came in front of the camera, it was naturally deduced it was the work of a ‘foreign hand’.

I came to know Baba when he had already established Yoga Cure Institute and was always dressed in either ‘dhoti’ and ‘panjabi’ or saffron colored ‘lungi’ and a white kurta.  I remember his sparkling white feet either barefoot or slipped into a pair of black leather sandal.  The feet were worthy of doing ‘pranam’ to receive his blessings.  I used to sit in the consulting room where he would question the members/patients and listen carefully to his detailed mode of queries.  I learnt what, how and when to ask and find out the problem with the person.  I learnt every individual had an individual constitution and the same ailment in two people needed different asana.  I learnt by watching and listening how to make a chart and how to teach asana and pranayam.  This learning gave me the knowledge necessary to help many ladies later in life, by God’s grace.  One other ting I received from Baba was the Bhagvad Gita – he gave it to me and asked me to start by reading the third chapter.  I did so for many years and then went on to read the Gita in full.  I have continued reading ten stanzas from this rich book of knowledge to this day.        

Baba never advertised or promoted his Yoga Cure Institute; people came in through word of mouth.  That itself explains his expertise in the field and the sincerity with which he pursued this healing process to help others in pain.  Everyone called him “Guruji” and he initiated many into ‘kriya yoga’, that he had learnt from Swami Yogananda. 

I remember Baba’s twinkling black eyes and his quirky sense of humour.  During the period I was there he had picked up the ‘f’ word from somewhere and kept laughing at the funny sound of the word.  Yes, one could discuss anything and everything with him, irrespective of one’s age.  He made you feel comfortable and secure to open your heart to him easily.   

Chitralekha Shalom

D/o Late Gyanendra Chandra & Bela Deb (Sharma)

This is me!

In the year 1982

After my crafty divorce and the heart-wrenching pain of betrayal I tried to gather up my life.  Not so much for myself as for my 3 small kids - I could not even cry in their presence because a friend of mine had me promise never to shed tears of despair in front of the children.  I got employed and then through friends got in touch with some highly placed photographers in Calcutta - for any modelling work.  Extra income, you know.  This picture was taken at a renowned studio - it belonged to the father of a famous swimmer and now a polo player.  However, it came to nothing because i was required to forgo work for atleast a week and only rest to remove the slightest dark circles under the eyes.  As I was told the camera does not lie.  I could not take the risk of taking long leave or quitting work.  There was no guarantee I would become a well paid model.  Anyway I love this photo because at this point of my life I was married, divorced mother of 3, yet good enough to be considered for modelling.  Great morale booster, who cares what anyone says.

My sorrows

What I am about to reveal may cost me a lawsuit or a jail term or whatever the lawyers wish to do.  Honestly I couldn’t care less; not any more after having slogged my whole life trying to make two ends meet.  I shall be sixty-one this September and have no idea whether my sons will ever get their rightful heirloom – I found there are many false documents legalised to support the opposite party’s false claims. 

Both cases mentioned here are over and judgements passed years ago.  However, I am questioning one vital factor – do lawyers follow any code of ethics?  Do they adhere to any moral compunction by default or is it left to personal choice?  In the first case I mention here, I also want to know whether a judge has the prerogative to smell something wrong and find out the truth before passing any judgement.  I know the courtroom drama is all about hard-core evidence and not emotions – but the judgement is about humans and for humans who inherently have emotions. 

The first is about my divorce from Ashok Bose facilitated by Tarun Kumar Banerjee – case no filed in the year 1981 and the decree given out in the year 1982. 

One evening in the year 1981 Buddha Bose (my then father-in-law) and Rooma Bose (my then sister-in-law) asked me to get ready and come along with them somewhere.   Did as told without questioning, as usual, leaving my 3 kids with Swapna (my late brother-in-law’s widow) her 2 kids and Bhabani (a Nepali maid).  We went to a house in kalighat, which turned out to be a lawyer’s chamber – more explicitly Mr. Tarun Banerjee’s Chamber.  Sitting in this room Buddha Bose said he wanted me to divorce Ashok and then he would adopt me so I need never leave the house.  He said it was imperative that I take divorce so Ashok, whom he had thrown out with the help of Bulu Ghosh and some big shot in the bureaucracy, would not make an excuse of coming back to the house to visit me or the kids.  The word divorce did raise questions in my mind; however, as I and my children were completely at the mercy of Buddha Bose and his daughter I agreed to whatever they proposed.  My only priority in life at that time was to keep my children safe and sound in their rightful home, at the feet of their grandfather. 

Thereafter, I would often be sent to the lawyer’s chamber if and when he wished to clarify any point or get my signature.  Of course these visits were always paid for by Buddha Bose, since I had no income or bank balance.  Even the lawyer’s fees were sent through me from time to time.  By the time the divorce was more or less final, things were changing at home – the attitudes of the family members gradually became distant and I started feeling like a most unwelcome guest in my in-law’s place.  I cannot put my finger on any exact event or situation but one fine day I was simply asked to leave the house with the kids by Rooma.  Now the house we were in was actually Rooma’s, it was a gift from her mother and the house that was settled for the grandsons was at the time leased to Reserve Bank of India; and Buddha Bose lived on the roof where he had built a well-fitted out flat-cum-pooja room.  He did not come down from there for seven days while I waited to ask him where I would go with the 3 children.  There was no way of contacting him and I was not given the key to the main door.  Finally, after being asked to leave practically every night I collected our few belongings and left for my parents’ place in a taxi, taking it for granted that I would take the fare from my parents. 

The day the decree was given I was called by Tarun Banerjee to come and collect it from his chambers in the evening.  He was aware I was no longer in New Alipore.  When I reached his chambers there was no other client in the room.  He smiled and asked me to sign a few papers before handing over the decree – the first in the bunch was Bank of Tokyo name or account withdrawal form.  I asked him why I should do that.  He replied if I did not sign all the papers as asked there would be scandalous rumours spread about me in Calcutta and I would find it very difficult to live here.  I remember going red and horrified with such low-class insinuations I simply signed all the papers without even seeing what I was signing.  I distinctly remember Tarun Banerjee’s last words as he handed me the decree – “You can get married again tomorrow."

I went to meet Mr. Tarun Banerjee recently after I came to Calcutta – he is aged now.  As he mentioned he is 76 years but he has done well for himself; he is a renowned divorce lawyer in Calcutta and his chambers in Fern Road is plush and air-conditioned.  At first he posed not to recognise me (last we met was in 1982 and it is 2013 now) and then said I used to be a very thin young girl in those days (regular yoga practice kept me in form).  Once recognition dawned on him I asked him a couple of questions.   One – who was his client during my divorce case?  He replied Buddha Bose.  Next I asked him did he not wonder as to why would I, a 29 year old woman with 3 children seek divorce, especially since I had no job, no money, and no boyfriend.  Mr. Banerjee said he had asked Buddha Bose why this divorce and got the reply that he, Buddha Bose would free me from Ashok Bose, his son and then do some financial settlement for his grandchildren and me.  I asked the esteemed lawyer why he made me sign a sheaf of papers and threaten me with defamation etc. when he knew very well that I had been thrown out of the house by my in-laws.  Mr.Banerjee ‘lost his memory again’ and said he did not remember the incident.

Mr.Banerjee then asked me the reason for my visit (since time is money and there was some financially-sound clients sitting in the waiting room).  I showed him the deed of settlement which named me as trustee for the property bequeathed to my sons by their grandmother, late Ava Rani Bose in 1974.  He got interested and said he would love to read the whole thing if I could give him a typed version of the deed, which is an original certified copy from the registration office in Dalhousie.  I got it in 1998.  I have not gone back for fear of my eyes welling up with tears again with all the pain and hurt in his presence.  

Please comment

Hello everyone and I mean all of you who are reading this.  Thank you for your precious attention.  You see I am still trying to get the hang of owning a blog and learning everyday how to navigate the page(s) on my own.  there are so many things to know like - template, form, label, community etc etc.  Honestly it is mind boggling and yet wonderfully challenging.  Yes, I am a freelance writer and have been writing for the past 3 years and more.  Yes I have also written blogs for requester through various websites and got paid for my articles.  Yes I even had and have clients sending me special requests; but I am still clumsy with my own blog page.  Sorry.  I am working on it and will be up to the ,mark very soon I know.  

I just have one request to make - please comment after you read my posts.  It does not matter whether you say a good word or two, or you are critical about any aspect of the post.  I just look forward to your feedback to give me that added boost.  I hope I made sense.  Thank you.

Mini the cat

Before shifting into this flat a couple of months ago we were living in one a storey house in the interiors of Barasat.  That was a very quiet area and completely residential with local pop-and-mom shops.  Most of the houses in the area had no main door – just a collapsible gate that needed to be kept locked at all times.  But the gate could not keep out little furry animals, especially, cats; they could comfortably squeeze through the gaps in the bars.  Mini, (I named her after she made it clear it was her home), seemed to have been a regular resident of the house as the neighbours said.  That she would decide to give birth to 3 teeny-weeny kittens on top of the rice bag came as a shocker, which soon turned into an adventure for me and my grown-up sons.  The first day she meowed and growled (as much as cats can growl) and the neighbours advised us to stay away from the kittens if we did not wish to be scratched in the eyes. 

We couldn’t let the situation be as it is, so as soon as Mini left her babies for a few minutes we swiftly transferred the furry balls into a big plastic tub, padding it up with newspapers and rags at the bottom.  And we had to throw away the rice – nearly 5 kilos of it.  I did not have the heart to throw the kittens far away from the house, as strongly advised by experienced neighbours and so kept the tub close to my bedroom in a warm corner (winter time).  I frantically surfed all information on ‘how to care for newborn kittens’ and learnt they must not be separated from their mother for the first 6 weeks (same as with pups).