CHAPTER 1
It was 1923. We started our first home at Panambur, a village in South Kanara. It was a small village and the inhabitants, mostly farmers, were poor.
There was a school run by the Grampanchayat. My husband, Sri Shivshanker Rao Padukone, was its headmaster. The number of students was hardly a hundred. Some of them came from quite long distances.
In those days, the headmaster was respected by the entire village. We lived in a rented house surrounded on three sides by green fields and on one side by a wide road on which buses ran between Mangalore and Udipi.
My father-in-law had planted two coconut palms near the house. He used to tell us “You will also live long like the ‘Kalpavraksha’ and be helpful to the needy.” He was a pious man and very affectionate. He had thirteen children - ten sons and three daughters (it was a sort of pride to have many children those days) of whom my husband was the youngest. Naturally, he was a pampered child, and more so, because he lost his mother when he was hardly thirteen. After the death of my mother-in-law, the home was broken and my father-in-law with his youngest child used to live in the house of his other sons by turn.
As my parents were not living together, I had also been brought up by my maternal relatives from the age of five. I was married when I was 15-year-old. Naturally, I was inexperienced in housekeeping when we started our home.
Our landlord, who had only one eye, had a sweetmeat shop. He was kind, affectionate and treated me like his own daughter. Every time he prepared sweets, he would give me some to taste. It was a pleasure to watch him prepare sweets.
In the village, the bazaar was held only once a week. People from villages, far and near, used to come to buy their requirements such as clothes, bangles, vegetables and other commodities. It was such fun to watch these villagers coming, bargaining, etc.
We used to get fresh vegetables from the farm itself. A maid-servant, who was also my age, used to do odd jobs in the house and accompany me whenever I went. We had to get water from a well which was far away from home. Once it so happened that the servant girl fell ill, and I had to fetch water. On the way some mischievous boys threw stones at me and tried to pull my leg. I was very timid. I ran home crying and panting for the house for a few days.
Those boys were from the school where my husband was the headmaster. They were punished severely and the parents took action. They brought the case before the “Grampanchayat”. Somehow, a compromise was brought about between the headmaster and the parents. I still remember another incident there. One day our landlady who used to work in the fields came home at 12 noon. As soon as she entered, she made a sound like a beast. Her eyes were red and wildly opened. She rolled on the floor. She was shivering. I was playing with her little grandson in a corner of the verandah. That lady’s son, daughter-in-law, the old man, all came rushing to her as if they knew what had befallen her, and tried to appease her. “We remember,” pleaded the husband, “we did not perform my father’s or your father’s Shradha ceremony. we will surely perform these soon. Please go away.” So saying the old man kept a rupee on a ‘panleaf’ and prostrated before her (the old lady). His mother’s spirit had come upon her to remind them. Others also bowed before her. Once again the old lady looked at each one of them with piercing eyes, and slowly and steadily the spirit left her. The old lady fell down with a sound. She became weak. The whole day, she could not get up nor touch any food.
On the school day, there was a Kannada drama played by the students. A few girls sang songs. At that time, dance was forbidden on the stage although the village folk danced during festivals and fairs. The prizes were given by my hand. I felt nervous and shy while stepping on the stage.
My husband used to get malaria often. He was treated by one of the school teachers called ‘Nachappa master’. He used to prescribe Ayurvedic medicines. The old man suggested that it would be better to consult an astrologer to find out whether the trouble was due to the unfavourable influence of the stars. My husband never believed in astrology. But, he had to yield to the suggestion of the old man. The astrologer wanted to read my hand too, and he being an old man, my husband did not object. The astrologer gave a broad smile at me, when he examined my palm. He predicted that I would get a son within a year. He would be a great person and bring good luck to the family. The child would be world famous. I felt shy at that time; getting children at such a young age was unthinkable.
After the annual exams, the school was closed for the summer vacations. My husband was not contented with the meagre salary. He wanted to proceed to Bangalore in search of a job. Once he decided to do anything, no one could stop him. He resigned the job. It was so painful for me to leave Panambur, where I led a peaceful independent life. I missed those traditional village ‘Yakshagana’ dances which were held the whole night in front of our house. I used to watch them from our window at nights and get scolded by my husband.
Artist Cousin
Before going to Bangalore I stayed at Mangalore with one of my maternal cousins for four months. She was a very strict woman although she had a good heart. She could not tolerate even a small thing going against her will. My only consolation was the affection of my cousin brother Sri B.B. Benegal, who was an artist. He was four years older than me. He used to take me out for an occasional stroll. Young girls were forbidden to go alone anywhere in those days. We used to take long walks, discussing about our future etc. He was a great admirer of Rabindranath Tagore, and used to get his books for me to read from the school library. I also became a great admirer of Tagore and his works. I used to dream that if at all I get children, they should be as talented as the Tagores. So we came close to each other.
It was a joy to watch my cousin while he was busy with his colours and brushes. My cousin’s father was an ardent admirer of art and the stage. During his young days it is said he used to take an active part on the stage. He also experimented on stage improvements and lost a lot of money. Thus the family had to suffer due to poverty. So his children had a grudge against him. He was a nice old man and very affectionate (I have always had a soft corner for old people). I used to pound his pan and help him whenever he wanted something or the other. He had promised me that he would stay at my place when I joined my husband. Unfortunately, he died a few days after I left for Bangalore. His wish could not be fulfiled.
In 1924 October, I went to Bangalore, Shivshankar got a job in a bank. My mother was with me most of the time after she joined us at Bangalore. I left Mangalore after the Gouri-Ganesh Pooja was over. This is a great festival for us. In olden times we observed the puja in a strict orthodox manner, fasting until the ‘Gana-homa’ and puja were over, simple devotion. Perhaps I have inherited this from my father. He was a follower of the late Sri Manick Buva. My father’s uncle Sri Swami Pandurangashram, was the Spiritual head of our Saraswat Community at the time. He was very orthodox and a strict disciplinarian. He had tabooed travel to foreign countries. So, in those days, people who had dined with foreign-returned persons had to take ‘Prayaschit’ to purify themselves. We had done this in 1921 after my brother’s wedding.
After coming to Bangalore, the whole atmosphere was strange to me. I had never been to school for any length of time. Before my wedding I attended school for one year and a half and that too because of my uncle who helped me financially. So, I had little learning. My cousins who were educated used to look down upon me, which hurt my sensitive nature a great deal.
I joined one of the Convent Schools to learn embroidery. I was unable to follow the English spoken by the nuns there. But they used to teach me with their broken Kannada language. Within two months signs of pregnancy appeared in me. I had to stop going to my classes, as I had severe morning sickness.
How avidly I used to read the lives of Sri Ramkrishna and Sri Vivekananda in Marathi! I could not understand their philosophy, but I had read somewhere that if a person who is pregnant devotes her time to reading good books, the child to be born becomes endowed with a brilliant intellect. It may or may not be true, but I sincerely believed it. It is this faith and sincerity which really played an important part in my life.
From childhood I was not allowed to have any friends in whom I could confide. I was the favourite of my father. Since we were separated, I was feeling very lonely. In those days, a girl of 10 years was treated like an adult, and so children had no freedom of any sort. My mother was very strict. Her nagging and fault-finding made me an introvert. Even after my wedding I was not close to my husband. We were poles apart. The wife had neither choice nor voice in any matters. Women had only to be submissive and obey their masters.
As the time of my confinement was nearing, it was difficult for me to move about. I used to get sweet dreams of the baby to be born. At length, the fateful day dawned. 9th July, 1925. I had severe labour pains and my husband and mother took me to the hospital, no one was allowed to stay there, only during visiting hours. So, my people left me and went away. How ignorant I was at that time! I knew nothing about what a patient who had come for delivery should do, or should not do. I went and sat on a chair which belonged to the matron. The pains were coming off and on. As soon as the matrons entered she was furious at seeing me, a patient, sitting in her chair. She shouted at the top of her voice and started abusing me. I was already nervous and her shouting made me more so.
The pain became unbearable after a time. I was taken to the labour room. The nurses there were also inhuman. Their treatment towards patients was humiliating. However, at 12 noon exactly my child was born. A bundle was brought to me after an hour or two. The nurse opened the bundle and placed the new-born beside me. I could not believe that the child was mine. My own flesh and blood. I kissed the baby’s forehead. I forgot all the pain I bore. How cute he looked with his curly jet black hair, fair complexion and big eyes! He weighed less than 6 lbs. the nurse said.
In the general ward, there was an elderly lady next to my bed. She was kind and affectionate. She showed me how to breast feed the child. In the evening both my mother and husband came. Mother was so happy to see her grandson. Perhaps, my husband also felt proud on becoming a father.
In the Hospital
My son was the only male baby that day, all the rest were girls. I used to feel nervous to handle the tiny baby. That same day, another young girl gave birth to twins. They were kept in an incubator. They were wrapped up in cotton and they looked like dolls.
Next day, it so happened that the nurse brought another baby to me. She made a mistake, by not seeing the number of the cardboard which was tied to the baby’s neck. My baby’s number was 9. The other baby’s number was 6. I fed the other baby thinking it was mine. The mother of that baby got wild as soon as she found out the mistake. She could recognise her baby. She made a big fuss about this and took the complaint to the doctor. The poor nurse was suspended for a week.
What a pleasure it was to fondle and kiss my tiny baby! The Mother becomes one with the child and forgets her existence, and even the world outside. That is the magic or maya of the Creator. This maya creates an impregnable bond between the baby and the mother, and how difficult it is to cut down this bond of maya!
It was the month of July. It rained heavily with thunder and lightning. On the 11th day my people came to take me home. The old lady next to me blessed me and the baby. She shed tears as she was undergoing an operation that day. There was no certainty of her surviving the ordeal. Poor lady! How much she was attached to me! She helped me a lot, as I was forbidden to get up for a few days.
My mother bathed the baby. How curiously I watched this! On the 12th day, the cradle ceremony was performed. A few relatives and neighbours were invited. My elder brother had suggested two names: Vasant Kumar and Gurudutt. The baby was born on Thursday (Guru’s Day) and it was the birthday also of Madhavacharya, the great philosopher and Saint of Vaishnawa cult.
The baby used to cry off and on. Perhaps his light body could not bear the cold. Whenever it rained, the weather in Bangalore used to cool down considerably. The baby used to get cold and cough every now and then. I knew nothing about child care. In the beginning I was clumsy even while changing his diapers.
When the baby was a month and a half old, he started gazing at persons who came close to the cradle, and used to keep on smiling. Gradually he started holding a toy with his tiny hands.
When the baby was two months old, he was vaccinated. For a few days he was very peevish. At the third month, he started to turn on his belly. He never crawled straight away and he tried to sit when he was six months old. It was a pleasure to see him fall down during his attempts to sit. When Gurudutt completed his seventh month, we took him to a photographer’s shop to take a photo. Everyone in the family was anxious to see the baby. How sweet he looked in this photo with his big eyes!
We were forced to shift to another house on the 5th road Chamrajpet, as the landlady started troubling us in our house. Our new habitation was an outhouse. The landlord had a beautiful wife named Gouri. She was charming and had three children. Her husband was not satisfied with his wife. He was carrying on with the maid servant of the house and the couple always used to quarrel. Gouri used to come to my mother with tears in her eyes. She threatened her husband that she would leave him. She had no parents, brothers or sisters to provide for her.
During this time we got the news that my father had come from Bombay to his cousin’s house at Malleshwaram. We both went there to bring Papa to our place. I saw my father after a six-year gap. How I wanted to go and embrace him! But this show of affection was not allowed in those days.
In 1927, when Mahatmaji came to Bangalore for rest along with Kasturba, Mahdev Desai, Maniben etc., we used to go there every evening to attend the prarthana (prayer) held in his presence. I attended it daily and I also coaxed my husband to attend it. I was very much moved by the bhajan. I also sang the Kannada devotional songs of Purandardas, Kanakdas and Bhatkal Appaya Shenai. Those songs had mostly Sanskrit words in them, which appeared to Pt. Madan Mohan Malaviaji. He would ask me to sit besides him to sing songs which specially dealt with Advaitha. By and by I was very much impressed by the atmosphere there. Rajaji’s daughter Laxmi, (who became Devdas Gandhi’s wife later) became my friend. We carried on our correspondence for many years. Little Gurudutt was evidently impressed by all these happenings. Every evening, as soon as lamps were lit in front of the idols at home, he would close his eyes and sing ‘Raghupati Raghav...’ although he could not clearly pronounce the words.
On his second birthday (in 1927), I dressed him up in red clothes which were his favourites, put his ornaments on and sent him to the landlord’s place to wish them. It was midday when he returned home running. He fell down near the well, which was situated between our house and the landlord’s. He was hurt severely near the forehead. I took him to the nearby doctor. At night he had high fever which continued for two weeks.
When Guru was a baby, I had once a severe attack of diarrhoea and had been treated by an old Vaidya. We had faith in him, and so we made him commence treatment for my child. It produced no result. The child’s condition became worse, day by day, I gave him milk in his silver cup. His eyes rolled up, his body became cold and his breathing rapid. The doctor who was nearby refused to come to see the child when I described his condition.
My cousin’s husband was a doctor. But my husband disliked him. He never allowed me to consult him when I was ill. This time I was desperate. I rushed to my cousin’s place which was on the 1st road, and requested him to save my child. He listened to everything quietly. All of them loved Gurudutt very much. But he refused to see the baby on principle. I wept, and that perhaps moved him at last. He came with me. We had closed all the windows and doors. I was so ignorant of everything! He opened the windows first, examined the child carefully and asked me to keep hot water bottles on both sides of the child. He gave some gray powder just to console me. (He told me this later, when Gurudutt recovered). He also told us to keep a watch on the child. We sat near the child by turns. By God’s grace the critical period was over. He uttered “Amma”. I gave him water from a spoon which he drank slowly. From a distance, I could hear a Shloka from “Manache Shlok” of Samarth Ramdas sung by someone by our house on the roads:
Who is most happy in this world?
Ask your own mind to find out.
Oh mind, it is you who are responsible for whatever you now suffer.
How these words appealed to me! My father had sent me the book of “Manache Shlok” when I was in Secunderabad, along with the book “Paramarth Sadan”. I had preserved these books like a treasure.
To be continued....