A Visit

In 2006, I had been to Vasavi Vidyaniketan on Vanivilas road in Basavanagudi at Bangalore along with my wife to attend a conference which was held to honor those who had undertaken pilgrimage to Kailash Mansarovar in 2005. Incidentally, my wife had been to Kailash & Manasarovar during 2005. Kailash Mansarovar Yatra is a trekking expedition in Himalayas spread over thirty days. It proves the fact that nature is God and God is nature. It is an expensive Yatra too. At least seventy five thousand rupees are required to undertake this Yatra. Gujarat and Delhi Governments are extending financial help to the tune of rupees 25000/- to people who undertake this Yatra from their state. The main object of the organizers of the conference was to persuade more and more people to undertake this Yatra and secure a grant from the Karnataka Government to yatris as in Gujarat and Delhi states.

My wife was busy exchanging her experiences with other delegates. I was feeling bored. Our house was situated in the vicinity of that venue long long ago. We were there in 1948. As such, I was well acquainted with that area. Though I might have passed through that area dozens of times, I had no occasion to visit the house where we lived 57 years ago. Normally one develops a sort of affection for a place where he or she lives even for a short period. It does not matter whether it is a rented house or an owned one. They call it their house. The memory of that house often remains green in their mind. One or another unforgettable incident relating to their life generally takes place in such a house. One is generally well acquainted with nook and corner of it. My wife too still remembers with reverence the house on the Bharati Street in Sringeri. It was forty years back, she was in that house. Her birth and life before marriage was in that house. Now the house is bought by a Pandith. It is altered completely. It is a cloth shop cum residence of Mr. Pandith. When we were to that place along with my son and grandson Nikhil from U.S. A., she was pointing to grandson a place where my eldest son Ravi was born. Of course, the child was anxious to know it too.

As days pass by not only a man undergoes changes but also a place undergoes changes.My memory started darting back. I could recollect only a little. There were four identical houses opposite to Maharashtra Mahila Vidyashala in 1948. Adjacent to Maharashtra Mahila Vidyashala there was a marriage hall too. Out of four houses, two were facing the road and two were out houses. Our house was an outhouse and it was behind the owner's house. It was the house that we occupied when dear father was transferred from Shimoga to Bangalore. It was far away from his office. It was in that house where I was suffering from dysentery for nearly six months. I had the dysentery due to overeating of mangoes. Diet was not at all controlled and the dysentery prolonged for a long period. I remembered the nearby doctor's dispensary on Vishweshwarapuram Road too. I was attending third standard in primary school affiliated to famous National High school, Bangalore at that time. Owner of the house had only a son by name Ramchandra and had four daughters. Ramchandra the owner's son was in high school. He was handsome. Children of the owner had the habit of sucking their thumb. Due to proximity of marriage hall nearby numerous marriage processions used to pass through the road in front of our house. This is the house where I had got a bone in my foot fractured due to my naughtiness and my foot was in plaster for months. It was impossible for me to walk at that time. I was at the mercy of my mother to make even a little moment. She used to carry me, the big boy just like a child until my foot attained its original stature. She used to take me in horse carriage to famous Victoria hospital for treatment. I was at the mercy of my sisters or mother during that period whenever there was a procession or anything important happening on the main road. Otherwise, I had to make movements on my buttock. As a result by the time my foot was completely cured, I might have got torn a number of shorts. In those days Bengaluru hadn't expanded much yet fleet of HAL buses used to move on our road in front of our house in mornings & evenings. Otherwise, there was not heavy traffic as it is today. The rent of the house didn't run in thousand in those days.

Further, I remembered that Lalbagh back gate was nearer to our house. Kota Shivaram Karanthâs elder brother was K. R. Karanth. His son in law was a doctor and was our neighbor. Before he occupied the house that was next to us, one Mr. Baliga was in that house. He was a young and hard working banker. He breathed his last at the young age due to tuberculosis, leaving behind a young wife and a child. I recollected blood stained walls of that house too. It was an unforgettable scene. At that time cooking gas was not available and firewood and charcoal were used by all for cooking. Further, cowherds used to come to doorsteps with animals and milked them in front of us. It was really a treat to watch the bucket which used to have milk to the brim along with foam. Nowadays we get dairy milk in packets and we are deprived of such a scene.

Majority of gigantic beautiful trees which were once decorating both sides of that road have been felled. National High school flyover is passing through that road. It is difficult to identify that road. Now they are not identical houses. Walls of them do not bear identical yellow color. Here and there one or another alteration has taken place to those houses. Maharashtra Mahila Vidyashala has been taken over by Vasavi Vidyaniketan and now it is Vasavi Vidyaniketan. I was glad to see Mr. Ram Chandraâs nameplate on one of the houses. It has superstructure also. Generally in Bangalore nobody opens the door to a stranger. I ventured and pressed the calling bell at the door. I expected fair and elegant Ramchandra to open the door. Instead, an old man opened the door. He enquired what I wanted. I informed him that I am son of one of their old tenants and want to meet Mr. Ramchandra- the-owner. After a span of a dozen years in jail in Tagore's Kabuliwala, in Kabuliwallah mind's perception of the Mini had not changed. She had remained young in his mind. My perception of Ramchandra had also not changed. I was looking forward to meet handsome Ramchandra. I was not aware that so many years have elapsed and Ramchandra has grown old.I was totally immersed in the past. I could not recognize him nor did he recognize me. He used to be in shorts. The old man who opened the door was Ramchandra himself and an old lady standing by his side was his wife. He was in the seventies. Now that's fair complexion is not at all there. He is more or less blackish now. His hairs are almost grey, with here and there a few black hairs. Wrinkles were found all over his body. He might have undergone numerous ups and downs in life. It might have been health wise, wealth wise or in any other manner. Only he can tell us. If a man leads a comfortable life and does not undergo the hazards of life, he may grow old, but there will be a little change in his complexion. Ramchandra is now a grandfather. He has retired from the services of Amco Batteries as an engineer. His sons are married and daughter-in laws and grandchildren are there now in the house. In order to accommodate the large family, he had gone for the superstructure. Other houses are not now rented. They are occupied by his brothers. Most probably those sons were born to his father after our vacating the house. Now a day we rarely find joint families. The family business was a cloth shop in K. R. Market and that is now looked after by one of them.

After a chat, I was offered a cup of Bournvita by Ramchandra. It reminded me of the fact that hospitality could be found in every Indian home. I wished him all the best and took leave of him. It was a brief visit.