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My Father’s workplace was in South Bombay in the Fort area and he commuted daily to work in the iconic red BEST buses from our home in Mahim – a distance of about 16 kms. The Reserve Bank built a new series of flats for its Senior Staff, in the Bombay Central area and my Father was eligible to occupy these. I overheard my Father and Mother debating this move and weighing the pros and cons – the new home would be more spacious and closer to the office, but we would have to give up our very own Krishna Sadan flat!

In early 1959, when I was 8 years old, my Parents finally opted to move to the Reserve Bank Colony in Bombay Central, though the actual move would happen sometime in May 1959. I was eager to know which school I would be attending and also wanted to know more about this Colony. The Reserve Bank Colony was the brain child of the first Indian Governor of the Reserve Bank of India, Sir C.D. Deshmukh. He was a visionary and he had conceptualized this Colony to be built along modern lines in early 1950 and the Colony was finally commissioned in 1954 – it had an underground Badminton Court, garbage chutes in each building and also a Club House with Table Tennis and Card Room facilities! They also built one more building for Senior Officers that was completed in 1959. It was to this building called M Building that we finally shifted to.

While we were busy planning this shifting, life continued and we carried on our normal daily activities – we went regularly to Ganeshpuri and Vajreshwari and my Mother’s faith in Swami Nityanand grew firm and abiding. I was in the 1^st standard in the Victoria School and went about happily learning and accumulating knowledge along the way. Relatives regularly came to our home and I managed to persuade some of my bachelor uncles to take me to the movies as my Father was busy with his work. An excellent movie that I saw at that time was Escapade in Japan! Finally the month of May arrived and it was time to bid adieu to Mahim and leave behind an early part of my childhood there – I was sad but equally thrilled to relocate to Bombay Central where another Chapter of my life would begin!

As we roared into the late 50s I was 7 years old, and my curiosity levels were ever rising. I had already travelled twice to South India with my Parents and had a healthy interest in people and places. Soon I heard from Amma that there was going to be an important marriage in our family and the wedding would be held in Bombay. Many of my close relations were expected from the south and this news was indeed exciting. My Grandfather’s younger brother and his family informed us that they would be staying with us in our home in Krishna Sadan.

Early in the morning, my grand uncle Dr B.D. Mallya and his family arrived at our home – we called him Dammanajjo and he was a very successful doctor and general physician in Cochin (now Kochi). Dammanajjo was a very affable person and all of us were immensely fond of him. Later on as we shall see in my memoirs, I spent many a summer holiday during my school days at their spacious home in Cochin. Along with his family came my cousin sister Mridula, who was slightly older than me – I remember playing with her happily at our home during this visit.

The bridegroom was my Father’s cousin, Ganpat Rao whom we called Ganpatmam. He was a tall man who had an uncanny resemblance to Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose – we were always delighted when he visited us at Krishna Sadan because he had a way with children and knew how to keep them amused. The wedding was held at the GSB Sabha Hall in Wadala which included the wedding ceremony in the morning followed by a gourmet Konkani lunch with close family and friends. Later in the evening, there was a formal Reception where I distinctly remember the pink ice cream that was served out of a special steel ice cream cup.

Once the wedding was over, all my outstation relatives including Dammanajjo and family prepared to leave for the south. When they finally left, our flat in Krishna Sadan felt empty and silent bereft of all the hectic activity of the last few days. Many years later I wrote a poem about this strange feeling of loneliness that I experienced when the guests departed – I am reproducing this poem below:

growing up

the marriage revelry is over
the wedding guests are departing
the home rings empty
and in the dappled silence of the room
the little boy pensively
gazes at the last bedding roll
and the last steel trunk
and within his heart wells a strange
new emotion called loneliness
as he watches sadly his uncle
hurriedly pick up his luggage
to catch his night train to madras

© ramgopal rao
26 sept. 2002

After my Father’s appendectomy, his health improved, but he still felt weak and his energy levels were low. Apart from this, his career at the Reserve Bank was not going in the right direction – he was denied a promotion due to office politics, and a far junior person was promoted, leaving him further depressed. My Mother watched all of this helplessly but her innate spirituality stabilized her, and very soon as we will see, Providence showed her the path and answered her prayers!

We had many Konkani GSB families living in our building Krishna Sadan, and one of them was the Shenai Family residing on the ground floor –not to be confused with my cousins, the Shenoys on the 3^rd floor. Mrs Shenai hailed from Hosdurga or Kanhangad as it is called today in the present Kerala state. My Grandmother was also from Kanhangad and so they were good friends – during a conversation, my Mother shared her anxiety about my Father including his depression due to his work place woes. Mrs Shenai was very sympathetic and suggested that we should accompany her to the Ganeshpuri Ashram near Bombay.

The seer there, Swami Nityanand, had a large following of devotees. My Mother decided that we should all go to Ganeshpuri the following week – Thursday was a high day at the Ashram and our visit was planned accordingly.

The next Thursday, we left early in the morning by the suburban train from Mahim to Bassein Road (now Vasai). From there by bus to Ganeshpuri – the entire journey took about 3 hours. Ganeshpuri and Vajreshwari are well known for their popular hot sulphur springs, where people bathe in these tanks or kunds for their medicinal values. My Mother liked this first visit to Ganeshpuri, where we had the opportunity of an audience with Swami Nityanand. Returning home my Mother told Bappa about Ganeshpuri and the Swamiji, and suggested that we visit again and specifically request the Swamiji for his blessings and advice.

In our subsequent Darshan with Swami Nityanand, my Father briefed him about his health and also about his unhappiness at his work place, and requested him for his counsel. The Swamiji just said that he should take a dip in the hot springs regularly and the rest would follow! Obediently, our family then on visited Ganeshpuri once a month for the next 3 years; for a dip in the hot springs and to spend a day or two in the quiet of this small town called Ganeshpuri.

My maverick grand uncle whom we affectionately called Shinapmam was a larger-than-life and unique character who regularly stayed overnight, much to our delight. Sometime in the mid-seventies, Shinapmam passed away and we were all saddened at his death! Shortly after that, I wrote a piece in his memory which I reproduce below, echoing Robert Graves’ book “Good-bye to all that”; recalling the wonderful days before the Great War of 1914.

“Whenever he burst into our home on weekends, I listened with pleasure to his tales of faraway lands, late into the night. Today, within the dim recesses of memory, I can hear him speak, with passion, of peoples and places across the black waters. To me, he symbolised all that was exotic and wild and adventurous.

My childhood hero, my grand-uncle.

Uncle Srinivas was imposing: a pucca brown sahib, complete with a haw-haw accent, born when Victoria Regina sat on the throne of England, while Britain ruled the waves. None could rival his sartorial splendour.

In his early teens, he earned the reputation of being the black sheep in the family. He told me, with a chuckle, how he had persuaded the man at the liquor shop to part with a peg of Cutler Palmer whisky, when he was just ten years old.

No wonder, he was often painted to us children, as some sort of an ogre, who led a dissipate life. Naughty children (like me) were solemnly warned of a similar fate, if they did not mend their ways. While studying his Matriculate he ran away from home, “to escape the tyranny of his father”, as he put it.

So, like the Dick Whittington of old, Uncle Srinivas set out for Madras, the city paved with gold!

Thenceforth, his life was a series of excitements. When he narrated to me some of his experiences, I was seized with curiosity to know more about the man and the age he lived in.

He told me of the days when he was with the British Expeditionary Force in Mesopotamia. Of finding, at critical moments, that the mug of water in the W.C. had turned into ice due to the desert cold. And of the wonderful joy-ride he had in a captured Junkers plane over the Arabian wastes.

Listening to his wanderings, my mind conjured visions of Sir Richard Burton in Doughty’s Arabia Deserta and Sir Lawrence in the Hejaz. In fact, my Uncle remembered a young daredevil called Lawrence wreaking havoc among the Turkish ranks using his guerrilla tactics.

He confided in me one evening, that the desert years were his best ones. He married a Cossack woman from across the Russian border. In the process, he transmogrified into ‘George Stanley Rowe’ instead of the mundane ‘Ganpat Srinivas Rao’.

He had sung ‘It’s a long, long way to Tipperary’; done the Lambeth Walk; experienced the Jazz Age, when America went on its ‘greatest, gaudiest spree in history’.

‘George Stanley Rowe’ will never burst into our home again. Uncle Srinivas died in 1975. With him gone, I could sense the past had vanished, for he had lived through a slice of history – gay and cavalier. Now the man and his era live on, only in my memory.

Our home at Krishna Sadan was always teeming with guests, with both friends and relatives regularly visiting us. There was never a boring moment with all these interesting people dropping in at sundry times. In those far off days when a phone at home was a rare commodity, many of our guests would just walk in without any prior warning. And the hospitality at home was outstanding with our kitchen operating non-stop, especially with my grandmother endlessly churning out delicious dishes – she was a legendary cook! Those were also the days when middle class homes did not have modern cooking appliances like gas ranges and refrigerators. So it was quite an effort for my grandmother and mother to look after all these guests but nevertheless, they did it!

I have earlier mentioned the names of some of the regular visitors like Dinna, my Mother’s cousin who came and stayed with my grandmother and my Brother and Sister when we had gone on our southern pilgrimage. Dinna regaled us with many interesting tales whenever he came, and as a bachelor was always persuaded to stay for dinner. Then there was Baldev, a distant relative who dropped in once in two months – I remember he always wore white and had a knack with children; and kept us all amused with his anecdotes.

And of course in Krishna Sadan itself, staying on the top floor, were my cousins Sudhir and Arun and their Mother Mira Shenoy – we had a great time playing together and very often we would gather around Mirakka, a wonderful raconteur who read out to us gripping fairy tales and stories from Brothers Grimm and Aesop’s Fables!

But of all the visitors and guests that poured into our house, there was nobody as interesting as my grand uncle Shrinivas Rao whom we affectionately called Shinapmam. He was a maverick and considered to be the black sheep of the family – Shinapmam was a divorcee who had lived a long time in the Persian Gulf and whilst in Mesopotamia he had married a Russian Cossack lady. Finally when he decided to return to India, his wife refused to come. They separated and Shinapmam landed in Bombay. He traveled for a while across the country but finally decided to settle down in Bombay with his nephew Dr A.P. Pai and his family.

Whilst in Bombay, he would regularly visit us in Mahim and often stay overnight – we all looked forward to these visits where he recounted tales of his journeys in the Middle East including exotic places like Basra and Shiraz! More about Shinapmam and his tales as we move forward in the narrative!

Krishna Sadan, where we lived in Mahim, had interesting tenants. The street below also had a lot of interesting activity – I watched this delightful panorama from our first floor window! I vividly remember the older kids in the building opposite, endlessly twirling Hula Hoops when the craze hit in 1958.

Krishna Sadan had many kids and some of them were my own cousins and relatives. I remember a birthday party of our neighbor that I attended and also vividly recall my intense shyness when everybody started singing happy birthday – I discovered that I just could not sing. Till today I have never sung a note! Maybe I am just tone deaf and cannot carry a tune.

At home, there was ample opportunity to play with my siblings. I think I really bullied my younger Brother Devdutt, who was a very quiet and docile kid by making him an accessory to my many mischiefs. We had a radio which was kept at a height on a cupboard – together we climbed on a chair and tried to pull it down – it almost fell on us but fortunately, my Mother had just walked into the room and was able to prevent this mishap from happening.

We also had a chair with a detachable red cushion, and I soon discovered that whenever I starting dancing with it in front of my little Sister Chitra, she would get frightened and start bawling –this delighted me and so I never lost an opportunity to repeat this prank!

On Sundays, my Father would relax on his easy chair and loudly recite Malayalam Poetry especially the poems of Vallathol which was his favourite poet. I would listen to him intently and discovered that I could recite these poems verbatim from memory without even knowing Malayalam – pure imitation!

Another favourite pastime of mine was to look at all the pictures in the Times of India Newspaper that we used to get at home, particularly in the entertainment section featuring movies. There were pictures and line drawings of the current movies in town – I vividly remember the ads of Harry Black and the Tiger.

Finally, I have memories of going to see the Russian Pageant: Holiday on Ice; that had come to Bombay. My cousins, the Shenoy Brothers, their Mother, my Aunt Mirakka and I, went to see this thrilling show comprising Russian Ice Skaters doing acrobatics!

As soon as I got to know from my Parents that we were once again traveling, and this time to Bangalore, I got very excited at the prospect. We prepared for this trip in right earnest, as we were to stay for at least 3-4 months, leaving the Bombay house all locked up. I accompanied my Dad to the Crawford Market in South Bombay, to buy steel trunks, beddings and hold-alls in preparation for this journey. As a Reserve Bank employee, my Father and his family, was entitled to travel first class by train – accordingly we booked ourselves on the Deccan Queen: first to Poona as there was no direct connection between Bombay and Bangalore in those days; and from thereon to Bangalore by metre-gauge line.

We left the Victoria Terminus, the main rail station in Bombay around 5PM in the evening by the stately Deccan Queen – I still recall vividly the uniformed bearers serving us high tea in fine crockery as we sat in the six seater cabins, looking at the view as the train crawled up the Western Ghats. In Poona we were met by my Father’s nephew, Chandrakant Nayak, who was a freshly minted IAS Officer. Chandrakantmaam as we called him, received us at the station and drove us to his spacious Bungalow in the Poona Cantonment area close to the Station. He was a bachelor at that time but he had an excellent cook who churned out splendid idlis and a tasty sambar for our dinner. Fortified with this meal, we were brought back to the Poona Station where we boarded the Bangalore Mail. This train was hauled by a steam engine, and I spent two wonderful nights on board, before reaching Bangalore early in the morning on the second day.

In Bangalore, we were received warmly by my Mother’s close relatives.  We stayed with them for a few days before finding a house to rent in the Malleshwaram area. Bangalore had sylvan surroundings in the 50s along with wide tree-lined avenues like the Margosa Avenue. The landlord occupied the ground floor and we were given the top floor. The kitchen fires still used wood, and I recall the shop nearby where the firewood was chopped, weighed and delivered to our house. Monkeys were rampant in Bangalore in those days, and we were shocked one day when we discovered a large monkey in our kitchen, happily enjoying the leftover food! During our Bangalore stay, the General Elections were announced – right in front of our house was a polling centre, where people dutifully lined up to cast their votes. My Father’s health improved considerably within three months and very soon the time arrived for us, to return to Bombay.

I was about 6 years old when I was put in School as per the earlier philosophy, unlike today when toddlers aged 2 years are put in a pre-school! As we were staying in Mahim, my Father was keen to have me admitted to the Bombay Scottish Orphanage School as it was known then. My Father took me along to this School on Cadell Road, but we were informed that he should have registered and enrolled my name immediately after I was born! Such a disappointment!

My Mother’s cousin was a teacher at another School nearby called the Victoria School. She arranged an interview with the Principal, a Roman Catholic priest who readily gave me admission to the Kindergarten Class. So my Father escorted me to the school one day, and placed me in the designated classroom. I was extremely brave unlike many of the other kids who were bawling away when their parents tried to leave! I still remember my Father anxiously trying to reassure me but I found this very irritating and wanted him to leave me alone! 

I enjoyed going to school and I lapped up all that was taught with great gusto. I remember going with my Mother to Anand Book Depot, the book shop and stationers close to our home, and my Mother purchasing notebooks along with the brown wrapping paper and labels. I recall vividly the smell of these new notebooks, the brown paper and the glue even today! Though my Father had undergone the appendix operation, he still felt weak and had not fully recovered yet. My parents decided that we needed to go to Bangalore to recuperate for about 3-4 months. So once again we travelled by train to Bangalore, this time with my Brother, Sister and Grandmother!

The first time I glimpsed my Mother’s spirituality was during the phase of my Father’s illness – she was the one who suggested the temple visits to the south in order to find a solution to his sickness. My parents and I boarded the Madras Mail, leaving behind my kid Brother and my infant Sister in the care of my Grandmother. My Mother’s bachelor cousin Dinna, agreed to come over and sleep at our home every night during our absence.

It was wonderful traveling by train, and my deep love for trains and steam engines began at that time which still continues unabated. Reaching Madras, our first port of call was to visit the Tirupati Temple – this was atop a hill and we dutifully took the bus to go and visit the Balaji Temple atop Tirumala. An amusing incident that I recall was when a group of monkeys snatched from my Mother’s hands some bananas as well as a bag containing money to be offered to Balaji!

The next temple visit on our list was the Palani Temple, near the textile town of Coimbatore. Whilst in Coimbatore, my Father decided to pay a visit to our relation Dr Major Sudhakar Rao who had a thriving practice in this town. Dr Rao was from the British Indian Army and had seen action during the Second World War; and after the war had set up his medical practice in Coimbatore. Initially we stayed in a hotel but once we met Dr Rao, he insisted that we shift to his spacious bungalow in R S Puram, an upscale residential locality of Coimbatore. Whilst there, my Father confided to Dr Rao his recent health problems and on hearing this, Dr Rao volunteered to examine my Dad.

Dr Rao was a very skilled diagnostician of the old school and decided to do a rectal examination – I remember my Father giving a gasp of pain after which Dr Rao triumphantly diagnosed an inflamed appendix! Dr Rao referred us to a specialist in Madras: Dr Mohan Rao, a very well-known surgeon practising in the Egmore area. Subsequently my parents also decided to go to Palani, as per the old plan and I now realize that providence provided Dr Rao and his diagnosis – an answer to my mother’s prayers! 

We returned to Madras and Dr Mohan Rao, the expert surgeon successfully carried out an appendectomy on my Father. We were fortunate to stay with our relatives in Madras and my Father’s younger Brother helped my Mother at the hospital. After a short recuperation my parents and I returned to Bombay. I was delighted to be back with my young Brother and my kid Sister who was growing up and starting to speak!

The mid-1950s began with the Samyukta Maharashtra Movement which basically espoused the bifurcation of the Bombay State into Maharashtra and Gujarat. The Government at that time was reluctant to do this, and this in turn caused riots in 1955 which led to the firing on the mob that had gathered at Flora Fountain resulting in multiple deaths. My Father was an eye witness to this event as his Office was just across the Flora Fountain, and he could see from his Office window the firing and hear the shots! That same Flora Fountain was later renamed Hutatma Chowk when Maharashtra State was finally inaugurated. I remember the curfew that was imposed upon the city and I recall Black Marias or the police vans, going up and down on our street in Mahim announcing the Curfew!

One day in September 1956, my mother told me that she would have to visit the hospital where she would be getting a baby – I was very excited at this prospect and dutifully trotted off to Dr Jhaveri’s Hospital at Matunga which was not too far away from our home in Mahim. Soon I discovered that I had a baby sister! For the next 5 days, I regularly went to the hospital in the evenings, more so that I could share the hot milk that the nurse would give my mother! My father had a penchant for naming his children with the names of well-known personalities of that time – I was named after Ram Gopal, a well known Ballet Dancer who was very popular in the West having performed at the Royal Opera House in London. Similarly my sister was named Suchitra after the popular Hindi & Bengali film actress Suchitra Sen!

Just before my sister was born, my father’s health began to deteriorate – initially he felt giddy often and had extended periods of indigestion and stomach upsets. This continued for a long time and I remember going with him to various doctors and x-ray clinics and pathologists for carrying out different tests. My mother became very much worried and being an extremely pious and spiritual person, she convinced my father to go for a short pilgrimage to South India especially to visit Tirupati and Palani: both highly respected holy sites for many Indians. Thus soon after in 1957, I left along with my mother and father for the south; leaving my kid brother and my infant sister in the care of our grandmother, at our Mahim home.