BY ANIL SWAMY 

 

AFTER first year in Engineering, exactly fifty four years back, me and my friend Shahid decided to travel down south. We zeroed upon Madras (Chennai), B’lore and Mysore, where staying with relatives was considered a safer option on our maiden independent trip. After the Train reservations, we got a shock of our lives as my father’s brother at B’lore, an orthodox, wouldn’t accept Shahid in their house. My parents failed to convince him and finally we had no option but to cancel the tickets. Out of blue, a letter from my aunt Indramma, opened a new window of hope. Aunt and her husband, both music teachers, barely able to sustain, stayed in a single room on rent with two children and a 40 watt bulb in one room only, were willing to host us. Even we never stayed with aunt fearing burden on them and our own extreme inconvenience too. She wrote ‘I don’t consider caste or religion a barrier in relations’ and rather, would be offended if we don’t stay with her. My parents, well aware of her stubborn nature, couldn’t dare to oppose her, so our tour was on. At Madras, we stayed with my cousin, who strangely, added Snake Park at Guindy to our itinerary. The curator of the park, Mr Romulus Whitaker, an American Herpetologist, spoke chaste Tamil and could switch over to various languages with the blink of an eye as he and his American wife could speak, read and write Tamil, Kannada, Telugu, Malyalam, Oriya and Bangla and Marathi apart from Hindi.

 

He was amused, being an Indians, we spoke only Hindi and English. Frankly like most, I too was taught by our films to foolishly make fun of Southern languages. Romulus willingly took us around the Snake park educating us all along but before parting, over a black coffee, revealed why he became an Indian. ‘India is the most beautiful country on earth and it is Impossible to study India in a single life’ he said. ‘A country of so many spoken and written languages and local dialects, cultures, food habits, religions, colorful festivals and amazing sweets for every occasion’ he added, advising us ‘being multi lingual is the best approach to ensure National unity and eliminate regional conflicts’. He literally forced us to commit to learn to speak at least two regional languages. At Aunt’s house in Bengaluru, at night we had to shift the luggage in kitchen and spread our beds on the floor of the small room and use the common toilet outside. Experiencing this lifestyle needed great efforts from us. We met Cousin’s close friend Mir Aijaz Hussain, son of former Deewan of Mysore dynasty, extremely jovial and an expert in history of city heritage. We four bonded very well for four most memorable days of our lives as Aijaz too had shifted in our hotel room. Aunt’s reasoning, fighting, arguing and pleading skills, won over my uncle to shed inhibitions and invite Shahid for dinner.

 

Evening, as we entered Uncle’s house, curiously watched by children hiding behind the curtains. Indramma aunt made Shahid sit next to her and in a calm voice, asked all to come out to meet ‘Her Son Shahid’. Her gesture, melted the tension and kids rolled out of hiding and got comfortable with us. Next seven days at B’lore, we frequently dined at Uncle’s home and entire family took a promise from Shahid, to stay with them, whenever he visits B’lore again. We returned home cherishing different cultures, history, cuisine, new friends and new found ‘Immense Respect’ for regional languages. Aunt Indramma while packing us off advised us to ‘never forget your own humble past and roots’. She had taught us the biggest lesson of our life “We can Co- Exist with different religions under the same roof and still be happy”. Last month in B’lore, on Indramma aunt’s birthday, I went with my cousin to their old rental one room dwelling. Eyes closed we sat there soaking in the radiance and warmth of her Wisdom and pure Love.