BLURRED VISION: GRATITUDE - Tribute to those who helped me in my career n lif

Chapter 6

Pirthi Chacha n his Family

Shivaji Park Friends

I shall dwell on my work at the Refinery in the next Chapter. Here let me share the life I led with Mamaji’s Family and after our family moved to Mumbai.

We were a large family by then. Papa ji, Bibi Ji, Bhaya ji (paternal grandfather) sisters Jasbir, Harjit, Swarnjit and Guljit and the toddler brother Kaka. I was destined to live apart from them the better part of a year after I moved to Mumbai. It was to be unusual experience for me. Fortunately Mama ji’s family provided quite an anchor for me.

I was taken under wings of Chacha ji’s Family: Chachi Jaswant, their daughters Kuku and Reena. It was a small terrace flat which all of them shared. However the rains were through by then and we could all conveniently spread our beds on the open terrace. The family named me Raji, perhaps an unconscious abbreviation for Raj-ji. I remained Raji for as long as the last of them lived. Kuku n Reena were very loving and they would call me Veer ji. It was to be their own name for me; no one else called me that name. My own sisters were used to lovingly calling me Bhaa ji. By that time I had shed the childhood nickname of Billa, except by some of my uncles or elder cousins. I loved the sound of Raji n Veer ji and till this day these remind me of the love that I received from this family. Not for a day did they let me miss the love n support of my own family, my own sisters and a kid brother Kaka born just a few months earlier. The name Raj ji has resurfaced on social media, where I object to being addressed as Sir and I savour the old memories all over again.

In those days Money was scarce but love was aplenty.

I would make my own breakfast, a boiled egg and tea and rush off to work. The refinery provided a sumptuous (and much fabled) meal at a subsidized price 4 annas for a 1200 calorie balanced meal. Dinner was shared with Chacha Ji’s Family. For some time I signed up with Ram Punjab dhaba for my meals at a princely price of 30 rupees a month. At times I would take the tiffin home and share with Chacha ji's Family.

I would catch an early morning train from Matunga Station to Sion and thence a bus to the Refinery. I recall that I would wait to hear the sound of the train, then run down 5 flights of stairs, across the station parking, up the over-head bridge and down just as the train came to a halt. Now almost pushing 80 and nursing weak joints, I need to take the stairs one step at a time and pause for breath. A doha by Sheikh Farid comes to mind:

When I had small legs, I would roam, the plains and the mountains;

Now in my old age, the katora lying nearby feels miles away.

After work, I would make the same journey in reverse. After coming home, I would venture out to Shivaji Park to be with Ramu and our other friends there. I would walk the distance using the long and winding foot-bridge connecting Matunga East and West. I was quite used to walking long distances and this was no sweat.

Once at Shiva i Park, we would sit on the Parapet which extended from Scouts Pavilion. Dhakka it was called. We would make small talk, joke and make fun of passers by. The favourite was: a passer by asks the way to a particular place. One of us would give directions. As the stranger turned that way, another boy would mutter loudly: if you don’t know, why are you misguiding the poor person. Hahahah. We would saunter our way to the Shivaji Park Chowpatty for Bhel at the messy hands of Rukmaih; or Bhajias from another vendor and end up for Irani chai at Café Cadell. We called it Bhatti. Like most Irani resto’s, this one also folded up. Today a branch of Yes bank operates from there. Days and months passed this way.

Early the next year, I was confirmed in the employment and we could think of bringing our family to Bombay. Chacha ji helped me to rent house in Chembur and after the schools closed, the family made the move and we started to live together. For some time, Papa ji continued to work in Poona and would make trips to Bombay periodically loaded with goodies or household goods. Later he took up work with Sports Shops in Dhobi Talao; last being Pioneer Sports.

Mama ji’s Family were our closest relatives and we would exchange visits frequently. There was another Ahluwalia Family in Coca Cola Company that were Papa ji’s distant cousins. Ahluwalia clan would assemble in the Coca Cola compound for a get together periodically. Pure Drinks the bottlers for Coke were a leading Ahluwalia family.

Our home was in the area then known as Deen Quary. It was up the hill from Panjrapole a shelter for cattle. Now it is a famous crossroads with Shivaji’s statue gracing it. The new Eastern Freeway has a landing right there.

We would walk to nearby RK Studio to make phone calls. In the monsoon the walk up to our home would get very slushy and we would wear gum boots. Sion Trombay Road was a narrow road with one bus service. Many a festival days, the family would dress up to ‘go to town’. We would miss one bus after another and after an hour’s wait we would walk our way to Chembur Camp or Station for some snacks. Bhaya ji would walk the distance to Chembur Camp twice daily. He was a tall gaunt personality and maintained good health into his 90s. He was a retired Police Officer and I got the walking habit from him.

On our shift to Bombay, my sisters were admitted to the Guru Nanak High School in Koliwada. This school was to play a major role in our lives. Not only did the children study there, but also my eldest sister Jasbir and later my wife Sukhjit were destined to make their careers as Teachers in this school. We are indebted to the late Principals Lakshman Singh ji and Maninder Singh ji for all the love n support they provided us. In fact Maninder Singh ji was responsible for Sukhjit’s elevation to Head Mistress in the 90s. He also played the host for AnuVicky’s marriage at Khalsa College in 1995. But then I am running ahead of my story..

To come back to the mid 50s…

To go to work at the Refinery, I would walk the distance from home to Chembur Camp and take a bus to the Refinery. After work I would make the same journey in reverse. Now I wonder why did I not use a bicycle. Surely it was no greater distance than the commute in Poona. I would pass by the Golf Course on my walk and never gave it a glance. Golf was understood to be the sport of the super rich and the foreigners. Little did I know that half a century later I would take to golf as the sort of last resort and buy the membership of the Club.

About my work at the Refinery in the early years… the next Chapter is in the works.