The Thread
In our school days as the summer vacation approached myself and my two younger brothers were very eager to go to our Nana-Nani house in a village near Pune on Pune-Nasik Road. We used to ask our mother ten times a day about our trip there. Our Nana-Nani were settled in that tehsil village from the beginning.
My Nanaji was an advocate and owned a big house there. Soon after we reached there, in no time, the house used to get crowded by my masi's and mami's and their children who were also eagerly waiting to reach there from Pune and Mumbai as soon as the vacation started. Next couple of months there was a sheer fun for all of us from morning to evening. Boys and girls together, we were about a dozen cousins of all the age groups, right from toddlers to teenagers. Two of our masi's were studying in a college in Pune and conveniently used to join our group of children when other ladies handled the kitchen and other household chores.
I now realise that it must have been very demanding on the ladies in the house to toil from early morning to late night. They never showed it on their face. Our Nanaji was a very strict person and Nani never dared to do anything that would displease him in his daily routine. With we children at home, however, Nanaji was quite a different personality.
Although he never played with us he looked very happy when we were around. Behind the scene, he used to make all the arrangements to make our stay comfortable. He had his men in the village who brought vegetables and grocery for the house, looked after the two cows in the stable at the back of our house, milked them every morning and evening, washed them routinely, arranged bullock carts for our outings once in a while. Sometimes all of the family members were taken to watch a cinema in a big tent-theatre. Being the relatives of a VIP in that tehsil we were made to sit separately on a big mattress and watched the cinema from a convenient position when other villagers sat directly on the ground. In short, there was nothing for us to complain during our stay there. Nanaji's men were very trusted and had access to his house at any time of the day.
Before we left for Nana-Nani house my mother used to warn me in advance, "Look, when we are there, your two brothers are your responsibility. I will be busy in the kitchen. Never forget that you are a girl and the girls have to be accommodating. You must learn to be happy and contented with whatever you get and must learn to share with others and make no demands. At times, you will see that boys will get more than the girls but don't grumble about it. That's the way it will be. This experience you get there will be useful to you when tomorrow you go to your Sasuarl after your marriage."
The advise was so routine, I just used to nod my head in acceptance and forget about it.
At Nana-Nani house we played the whole day, mostly indoor games. In the evening before the dinner, it was obligatory to recite arithmetic tables and Ramarakha and other shlokas as per the day of the week. After the dinner we all went to the open terrace on the top of our house. It was the time for story-telling before we went to bed. We had nightmares when some boys in our group used to make ghost stories to scare us. But that was not the usual practise. At times, Nani used to join us and narrate a few stories that were educating. Elders those days always tried to inculcate good moral values right from our childhood. Once in a while she mentioned about her younger brother whom we had never seen. My eldest masi only remembered to have seen him once or twice as a school boy. They both were nearly of same age. He was not liked by our Nanaji and that's why he used to rarely visit his elder sister's house. He was a school dropout and tried his hands on many business ventures. Never succeeded in any of them. But Nani had a special affection towards him and always talked about him with pride. Later, I learnt from my mother that he had become a revolutionary and joined a group that believed in overthrowing the British Raj by an armed struggle. He used to go underground every now and then. He stopped visiting Nani suddenly and she did not hear anything about him again.
When we played at Nana-Nani house the boys were more notorious and there were fights, mostly verbal. When we went to the kitchen for making a complaint all the ladies used to raise there hands and asked us to go to Nani for the final judgement. Nani patiently heard our pleas. When we asked her to punish the guilty she used to smile and tell us, "Look, how can I punish my own children? All of you are my own. At the end, the fights used to get resolved by exchanging a piece of gud to each other and our play continued with a renewed vigour.
Nanaji had a good income from his practise. In addition, some income came from the small farm he had. Few regular customers purchased milk from the cows in our house. People those days were simple and their requirements were bare minimum. Nobody believed in spending extravagantly. Nor they believed in displaying their wealth. Like any other household around, most of the population lived very economically. Our Nani never threw the cotton thread pieces used for packing the grocery items that came from the grocery shop in the makeshift packets made of old newspaper sheets. The word "packaging" was not even invented that time. She meticulously used to join the thread pieces together and made thread balls out of them for future use. The thread from such balls used to be very handy in making garlands from the flowers in our small garden for the daily pooja performed when the garlands were put on the deities and photo frames of Nanaji's ancestors on the wall in the Pooja Room.
It was very interesting to watch Nani when she made those cotton thread balls. On some core material like a betel nut or a small wooden stick she started making the ball by wrapping the cotton thread on it. By swiftly changing the direction of winding every few seconds the ball used to grow in size and still retained its spherical shape. At times the ball grew as big as 3-4 inches in diameter. We always used to see a few cotton thread balls when we opened her cupboard.
As we got busy in our higher classes and exams the trips to Nana-Nani house automatically reduced in number and duration. Nana-Nani also grew old and were not in a position to host all of us as before. Nani's health started deteriorating faster. By the time I obtained my degree and started working in an office Nani was really in a bad shape. She had a premonition and started telling all of us to visit her at least once before she leaves the scene. It was very saddening to all of us. Whoever visited her in those days she used to gift a small item from her cupboard as a memento.
My mother got a big cotton thread ball from Nani. It was little bigger than those we used to see earlier. By that time the thread balls had lost their utility. People no more used cotton threads for packing anything. Looking at the question mark on my mother's face Nani told my mother, "I know it looks funny but just keep it with you. I have some emotions attached to it. I had made it long ago on a special occasion. If not anything you will remember me when you see it."
"Why? We will always remember you even otherwise. You have given so much to all of us." My mother replied with tears in her eyes. In a few days after that conversation Nani passed away creating a big vacuum in our lives.
The cotton thread ball we received from Nani was a part of many other items in our Show case in our Pune house. Since it was given to us by Nani, I also was attached to that ball. So much so that when I got married I brought it to my Sasural in Pune along with my other usual things the bride normally carries with her and it remained in my suitcase for a long time even after shifting to Ahmedabad with my husband.
Later, the thread ball became a part of the basket of toys of my two daughters. In spite of the addition of newer soft toys and battery operated toys that came from the market, the thread ball retained its position in the basket of toys. My daughters played with it as a regular ball. I thought it was safer as that ball would not cause any injury to them. At times my daughters removed some thread from it for something or the other and the ball reduced in size considerably. But it remained in their basket of toys all the time.
As the years passed my daughters developed other interests in their schools and colleges and the toy basket got shifted to our store room. It came out only after the birth of my grand daughter four years ago. Luckily our grand daughter is in Ahmedabad only and often visits our house. We always get a strange feeling when my grand daughter also plays with the same cotton thread ball which is now probably more than eighty year old. The thread of the ball has literally passed through our five generations from my mother's side. Nani must have made this ball in thirties when she came to Nana-Nani house. Some age-old toys in the toy basket have been discarded and new generation toys like toy laptop, toy mobile, robots and aero planes etc have taken their place, but the cotton thread ball still remains in the basket.
Last Sunday, my grand daughter suddenly asked me, "Nani, how long is this thread? Can I just open it and see?"
"No beta. It is very long. You will get tired if you do that."
"No. But I want to see it. Now!"
Knowing her fully well I realised that there was no point in saying "no" to her. She immediately started her mission. I was just keeping a watch on her in between. Though she got tired after some time, she patiently continued. After struggling for about 20 minutes she completely unwound the thread from the ball and looked at me with a sense of achievement. The unwound thread of the ball was spread all over the room. I gave her a prize she wanted. On such occasions she accepts anything you give to her. But you must give something for her achievement. Looks they get spoilt when they grow!
When I was looking at the room filled with the unwound thread I started worrying as to how was I to restore the ball's original shape knowing very well that my grand daughter will ask me to do it any time later. At that moment only I noticed a small folded paper roll that Nani had used as a core to wind that cotton thread ball. I just unfolded and opened the paper roll. It was a full scape size paper when fully opened. The paper was in a fairly good condition as it was not exposed to any climatic changes for all these years. There was a hand-written text on it in black ink. When I tried to read it I couldn't help telling myself, "What a treasure I have put my hands on!" It was a letter dated 21st April 1935 written to Nani by her younger brother. I suddenly got overwhelmed by the turn of events I was experiencing. I started reading the letter.
"Dear Sau. Tai,
I am sending this letter to you through my friend Shriram whom you know very well. I have to leave immediately and will not be able to meet you in person for quite some time. I am not sure whether we will ever meet again. We are being trailed by the police as recently we attacked a horse carriage carrying two boxes of currency notes and gold that was being shifted from the Main Branch of a bank to another in a nearby town on a kutcha road passing through the jungle. The cart was guarded by armed sepoys. We could get hold of the boxes but in the cross firing that took place all the three guards, one British Sargent and two natives got killed. We ran with the loot.
Since we are the prime suspects Police will soon find us. We have already dispatched the loot to Varanasi through our network as it was required there for an urgent mission. But we needed to move our arms and ammunition from our godown to a safer place. Police probably know our godown in this town and hence we had to act very fast.
We have hidden our arms and ammunition now underground near the Shiva temple on the bank across the river. There is a banyan and peepal tree just behind the Shiva temple. Midway between the banyan and peepal tree we have dumped all our stock of arms and barud. I am giving you this information deliberately as somebody from our group whom you can trust may need this information and may come to you in near future. Preserve this paper carefully and give it him when he comes.
Please remember that I always loved you and hope to meet you in our next life as your younger brother again.
Your lovingly,
Suresh"
Tears rolled down my cheeks when I finished reading the letter. So, Nani was preserving this treasure item all throughout her life. Don't know what she must have gone through. She could not have shown this paper to Nanaji. Nor she could keep it in the house where so many people used to visit everyday and could have accidentally got hold of it. So she found a genius way of hiding the paper in a special thread ball. Even police couldn't have suspected it.
I felt proud of the unseen hero from my own family who did his bit of efforts in his own way to liberate the country from the British Rule! I kept thinking about it for quite some time. I feel like visiting the same Shiva temple, the same banyan and peepal tree where as a child I must have played hide and seek with my cousins without any one of us knowing that Mamaji had buried his arms right at that spot. Wish had we known it....
My Nanaji was an advocate and owned a big house there. Soon after we reached there, in no time, the house used to get crowded by my masi's and mami's and their children who were also eagerly waiting to reach there from Pune and Mumbai as soon as the vacation started. Next couple of months there was a sheer fun for all of us from morning to evening. Boys and girls together, we were about a dozen cousins of all the age groups, right from toddlers to teenagers. Two of our masi's were studying in a college in Pune and conveniently used to join our group of children when other ladies handled the kitchen and other household chores.
I now realise that it must have been very demanding on the ladies in the house to toil from early morning to late night. They never showed it on their face. Our Nanaji was a very strict person and Nani never dared to do anything that would displease him in his daily routine. With we children at home, however, Nanaji was quite a different personality.
Although he never played with us he looked very happy when we were around. Behind the scene, he used to make all the arrangements to make our stay comfortable. He had his men in the village who brought vegetables and grocery for the house, looked after the two cows in the stable at the back of our house, milked them every morning and evening, washed them routinely, arranged bullock carts for our outings once in a while. Sometimes all of the family members were taken to watch a cinema in a big tent-theatre. Being the relatives of a VIP in that tehsil we were made to sit separately on a big mattress and watched the cinema from a convenient position when other villagers sat directly on the ground. In short, there was nothing for us to complain during our stay there. Nanaji's men were very trusted and had access to his house at any time of the day.
Before we left for Nana-Nani house my mother used to warn me in advance, "Look, when we are there, your two brothers are your responsibility. I will be busy in the kitchen. Never forget that you are a girl and the girls have to be accommodating. You must learn to be happy and contented with whatever you get and must learn to share with others and make no demands. At times, you will see that boys will get more than the girls but don't grumble about it. That's the way it will be. This experience you get there will be useful to you when tomorrow you go to your Sasuarl after your marriage."
The advise was so routine, I just used to nod my head in acceptance and forget about it.
At Nana-Nani house we played the whole day, mostly indoor games. In the evening before the dinner, it was obligatory to recite arithmetic tables and Ramarakha and other shlokas as per the day of the week. After the dinner we all went to the open terrace on the top of our house. It was the time for story-telling before we went to bed. We had nightmares when some boys in our group used to make ghost stories to scare us. But that was not the usual practise. At times, Nani used to join us and narrate a few stories that were educating. Elders those days always tried to inculcate good moral values right from our childhood. Once in a while she mentioned about her younger brother whom we had never seen. My eldest masi only remembered to have seen him once or twice as a school boy. They both were nearly of same age. He was not liked by our Nanaji and that's why he used to rarely visit his elder sister's house. He was a school dropout and tried his hands on many business ventures. Never succeeded in any of them. But Nani had a special affection towards him and always talked about him with pride. Later, I learnt from my mother that he had become a revolutionary and joined a group that believed in overthrowing the British Raj by an armed struggle. He used to go underground every now and then. He stopped visiting Nani suddenly and she did not hear anything about him again.
When we played at Nana-Nani house the boys were more notorious and there were fights, mostly verbal. When we went to the kitchen for making a complaint all the ladies used to raise there hands and asked us to go to Nani for the final judgement. Nani patiently heard our pleas. When we asked her to punish the guilty she used to smile and tell us, "Look, how can I punish my own children? All of you are my own. At the end, the fights used to get resolved by exchanging a piece of gud to each other and our play continued with a renewed vigour.
Nanaji had a good income from his practise. In addition, some income came from the small farm he had. Few regular customers purchased milk from the cows in our house. People those days were simple and their requirements were bare minimum. Nobody believed in spending extravagantly. Nor they believed in displaying their wealth. Like any other household around, most of the population lived very economically. Our Nani never threw the cotton thread pieces used for packing the grocery items that came from the grocery shop in the makeshift packets made of old newspaper sheets. The word "packaging" was not even invented that time. She meticulously used to join the thread pieces together and made thread balls out of them for future use. The thread from such balls used to be very handy in making garlands from the flowers in our small garden for the daily pooja performed when the garlands were put on the deities and photo frames of Nanaji's ancestors on the wall in the Pooja Room.
It was very interesting to watch Nani when she made those cotton thread balls. On some core material like a betel nut or a small wooden stick she started making the ball by wrapping the cotton thread on it. By swiftly changing the direction of winding every few seconds the ball used to grow in size and still retained its spherical shape. At times the ball grew as big as 3-4 inches in diameter. We always used to see a few cotton thread balls when we opened her cupboard.
As we got busy in our higher classes and exams the trips to Nana-Nani house automatically reduced in number and duration. Nana-Nani also grew old and were not in a position to host all of us as before. Nani's health started deteriorating faster. By the time I obtained my degree and started working in an office Nani was really in a bad shape. She had a premonition and started telling all of us to visit her at least once before she leaves the scene. It was very saddening to all of us. Whoever visited her in those days she used to gift a small item from her cupboard as a memento.
My mother got a big cotton thread ball from Nani. It was little bigger than those we used to see earlier. By that time the thread balls had lost their utility. People no more used cotton threads for packing anything. Looking at the question mark on my mother's face Nani told my mother, "I know it looks funny but just keep it with you. I have some emotions attached to it. I had made it long ago on a special occasion. If not anything you will remember me when you see it."
"Why? We will always remember you even otherwise. You have given so much to all of us." My mother replied with tears in her eyes. In a few days after that conversation Nani passed away creating a big vacuum in our lives.
The cotton thread ball we received from Nani was a part of many other items in our Show case in our Pune house. Since it was given to us by Nani, I also was attached to that ball. So much so that when I got married I brought it to my Sasural in Pune along with my other usual things the bride normally carries with her and it remained in my suitcase for a long time even after shifting to Ahmedabad with my husband.
Later, the thread ball became a part of the basket of toys of my two daughters. In spite of the addition of newer soft toys and battery operated toys that came from the market, the thread ball retained its position in the basket of toys. My daughters played with it as a regular ball. I thought it was safer as that ball would not cause any injury to them. At times my daughters removed some thread from it for something or the other and the ball reduced in size considerably. But it remained in their basket of toys all the time.
As the years passed my daughters developed other interests in their schools and colleges and the toy basket got shifted to our store room. It came out only after the birth of my grand daughter four years ago. Luckily our grand daughter is in Ahmedabad only and often visits our house. We always get a strange feeling when my grand daughter also plays with the same cotton thread ball which is now probably more than eighty year old. The thread of the ball has literally passed through our five generations from my mother's side. Nani must have made this ball in thirties when she came to Nana-Nani house. Some age-old toys in the toy basket have been discarded and new generation toys like toy laptop, toy mobile, robots and aero planes etc have taken their place, but the cotton thread ball still remains in the basket.
Last Sunday, my grand daughter suddenly asked me, "Nani, how long is this thread? Can I just open it and see?"
"No beta. It is very long. You will get tired if you do that."
"No. But I want to see it. Now!"
Knowing her fully well I realised that there was no point in saying "no" to her. She immediately started her mission. I was just keeping a watch on her in between. Though she got tired after some time, she patiently continued. After struggling for about 20 minutes she completely unwound the thread from the ball and looked at me with a sense of achievement. The unwound thread of the ball was spread all over the room. I gave her a prize she wanted. On such occasions she accepts anything you give to her. But you must give something for her achievement. Looks they get spoilt when they grow!
When I was looking at the room filled with the unwound thread I started worrying as to how was I to restore the ball's original shape knowing very well that my grand daughter will ask me to do it any time later. At that moment only I noticed a small folded paper roll that Nani had used as a core to wind that cotton thread ball. I just unfolded and opened the paper roll. It was a full scape size paper when fully opened. The paper was in a fairly good condition as it was not exposed to any climatic changes for all these years. There was a hand-written text on it in black ink. When I tried to read it I couldn't help telling myself, "What a treasure I have put my hands on!" It was a letter dated 21st April 1935 written to Nani by her younger brother. I suddenly got overwhelmed by the turn of events I was experiencing. I started reading the letter.
"Dear Sau. Tai,
I am sending this letter to you through my friend Shriram whom you know very well. I have to leave immediately and will not be able to meet you in person for quite some time. I am not sure whether we will ever meet again. We are being trailed by the police as recently we attacked a horse carriage carrying two boxes of currency notes and gold that was being shifted from the Main Branch of a bank to another in a nearby town on a kutcha road passing through the jungle. The cart was guarded by armed sepoys. We could get hold of the boxes but in the cross firing that took place all the three guards, one British Sargent and two natives got killed. We ran with the loot.
Since we are the prime suspects Police will soon find us. We have already dispatched the loot to Varanasi through our network as it was required there for an urgent mission. But we needed to move our arms and ammunition from our godown to a safer place. Police probably know our godown in this town and hence we had to act very fast.
We have hidden our arms and ammunition now underground near the Shiva temple on the bank across the river. There is a banyan and peepal tree just behind the Shiva temple. Midway between the banyan and peepal tree we have dumped all our stock of arms and barud. I am giving you this information deliberately as somebody from our group whom you can trust may need this information and may come to you in near future. Preserve this paper carefully and give it him when he comes.
Please remember that I always loved you and hope to meet you in our next life as your younger brother again.
Your lovingly,
Suresh"
Tears rolled down my cheeks when I finished reading the letter. So, Nani was preserving this treasure item all throughout her life. Don't know what she must have gone through. She could not have shown this paper to Nanaji. Nor she could keep it in the house where so many people used to visit everyday and could have accidentally got hold of it. So she found a genius way of hiding the paper in a special thread ball. Even police couldn't have suspected it.
I felt proud of the unseen hero from my own family who did his bit of efforts in his own way to liberate the country from the British Rule! I kept thinking about it for quite some time. I feel like visiting the same Shiva temple, the same banyan and peepal tree where as a child I must have played hide and seek with my cousins without any one of us knowing that Mamaji had buried his arms right at that spot. Wish had we known it....
posted by Dilip Subhedar @ 06:25
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