Tuesday, July 12, 2016

My Sister


Separated by four years, My Sister. I was born on her fourth birthday, and according to the customs of our family (Vaishnavite?), since we shared the same Zodiacal sign, Libra, and as she was named Rama, I was named Ram. My great dear uncle No. 7 (a large family?) very quickly bribed the young inmates of our building in Calcutta with peppermints to call me only Ramesh, so I have carried that extension of Ram attached to my name, for better or worse.

She was sixteen years old when I took this picture, which would be in 1948. I made her pose sitting on a chair on the roof terrace. As the background was cluttered with the innards of a terrace home (barsaati), like charpoys, chairs, drinking water pots, cooking vessels and so on and in, I rigged up the backdrop, a shawl, on the clothesline.

The rest is his(her)story, and mine. Both forgettable in the ocean of timelessness and the ultimate irrelevance of everything. 

Incidentally, My Sister was also the name of a very successful film, produced, I think, by New Theatres, and most known for music direction by Pankaj Mallick, and for songs sung by Saigal and Utpala Sen. I doubt if anyone today would have the slightest interest in this bit of information, which is given only to acknowledge where I borrowed the title of this post from. For those who are interested in songs of ancient, and almost or entirely forgotten, times of Hindi/Bengali cinema, the link is here



If you have come this far, thank you.

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Pravin Gandhi wrote:
A few weeks before my mother died, Ramaben had visited. My mother was semi-paralytic. She had a great love for all "dikri's" and wd not let her leave, holding the hand in a vice-like grip when it was time for her to leave, even tho the conversation would be 1-way. I vividly remember that clasp with Ramaben God knows what communication flowed through that clasp, as if they both knew the impending. That was the last they saw of each other.

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My reply:
Pravin: Your three lines contained the most sublime essence held in passing by two hands, one living, another slipping away in parting: dear and revered Kaki and Ben. Thank you for such excellence of feeling and expression.
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Shyla Shanker wrote:
Well written ! I am sure you're story is relevant to you " but I must say she looks like kamla Nehru reminds me of seeing my mothers photographs .early morning enjoyed reading .
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Mymoon Moghul wrote:
what a beautiful image sir...pretty lady too...thanks for sharing
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Pravin Gandhi wrote:
Do you hv that picture that I referred to above?, else I'll look in my archives. 


apart from the overall compo of the pic, I am drawn to look in the direction of her stare... wonder what she is staring/searching with great interest/anticipation
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Hemantha Kumar Pamarthy wrote:
...Phoolon Ka Taaron Ka Sabka Kehna Hai
Ek Hazaron Mein Meri Behna Hai...


...Nainon Mein Rahen To 
Sudhbudh Khoyen
Chhupe To Chain Haarein
Do Naina Matware tihare
Hum par zulm kare...

My Sister (1944) 'Meri Bahen'
K. L. Saigal
Lyrics: Pt. Bhushan
Music: Pankaj Mullick

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Pravin Gandhi wrote:
apart from the overall compo of the pic, I am drawn to look in the direction of her stare... wonder what she is staring/searching with great interest/anticipation
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My reply:
Pravin: She is staring and looking as/at directed by her inexperienced young brother, who had never held a camera with multiple choices of focus for distance, aperture, depth of field, exposure and film speed converse ratio, through a view-finder of a Japanese camera which was curiously lent by an elderly Bengali bhadralok.
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Bhashwati wrote:
How neat.

the composition, the subject, the title and the accompanying text including the bit about the film.

If the photographer really was all of 12 years old, the output is remarkable.

In my very subjective 'view' stories both his and her, are what we can churn endlessly out of the oceans of timelessness and in as much they can never be irrelevant.
Forgettable? 
To forget or not to forget is not even a choice jee, What we live remains embedded in our consciousness does it not for as long as we last?

Metaphysics aside, what poise and dignity your sister exudes.
Awesome.

i thumb to the power n.

thank you.
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Subhasish Bose wrote:
She is looking like NUTAN of swaraswatichanda.i read ur writing with heart......

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My reply:
Saying that you saw Nutan in My Sister is one of the greatest compliments that she would have received during the time she lived. Nutan, apart from her pristine beauty, was rare; known for the dignity of her carriage, application in her acting assignments, and unknown for any kind of malice towards, or from, herself. I should know, as I have served as a member of the Film Censor Board, as well as the committee for selecting films for the International Film Festivals. Thanks very much indeed.
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Charu wrote:
In the realm of irrelevance I must rhetorically ask why ' his(her)' in 'The rest is his(her)story, and mine. "?

Taralika wrote:

DrTaralika Trivedi Well caught,:)

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My reply:


Charu: In the first place, his/her is not in the realm of irrelevance. WE are. The parentheses were an attempt both to avoid the presumption of considering our lives to be historical; and secondly, I felt that using the word 'history' would be misogynistic. Apparently my attempt at modesty has failed, as I am convinced it does not become me, at least as far as two evolved ladies think.

Taralikaji: Well-caught, in keeping with improvement in Indian fielding, which for more than half a century was much maligned in the game of cricket.

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