We all have our childhood memories and for the fortunate ones like me many revolve around my grandfather. He had seven grand daughters and only two grandsons (twins). But he loved us the same.
My mom fondly remembers the time when she had her second daughter and the gynecologist made as face as she ‘broke’ the news –
“Another daughter” she said with a sullen face
And my grandfather’s quick reply was “Another devi has graced our home. We will be blessed with immense good fortune.”
By the time our younger sister made her appearance my dad’s Chartered Account practice was successful and my grand father always said that because the daughters of the house good fortune had graced our loving home.
We never faced any sort of discrimination. He took us to the Book Fairs held in Pragiti Maidan, when we feel sick he would take us to the doctor along with mom and at night we slept with him in our living room with the cooler bellowing and throwing cold winds on our little bodies.
He told us tales from the Mahabharata and Ramayana. Our favorite was the one when Krishna saved Draupadi and the Pandavas from the wrath of hungry Rishis by eating one grain of rice and causing the rishies to have full bellies.
I still remember the mock belching and farting noises he made and had us rolling around in our beds and the rest of the family members (my parents and grandmother) shouting from their bed rooms to stop the story telling since we had school the next day.
There had been times when he would ramble late into the night weaving stories after stories without realizing that we had gone off to sleep. He loved his grand daughters equally; there was no doubt about it.
Looking back now I realize that my grandfather was a true Hindu. Being the disciple of Durga Ma he considered women to the source of good fortune and power. Come navratras he would get us special treats, feed us fruits from his plate while he fasted and on Kanjak he along with my dad washed our feet and and those of the kids from the neighborhood.
Though Kanjak is a festival where pre-teen girls are revered, my grand father made it a rule that all kids whether boys or girls and whatever be their age till they were not married were invited to our home for puja.
He was a humanist, men and women were equal in his eyes. The community used to come home to get his advice over domestic fights, property fights and spiritual guidance. We were used to having an open kitchen, the chai used to keep running, people used to be there through the day and even a street dog had started to slink in and sleep behind one of the sofas till one day my shocked mom ran it out of the house.
Though my grandfather used to perform his mantras starting early in the morning before dawn peeked through our windows and then late into the night, his religious practice translated into real life. He was a firm believer in compassion, truthfulness and justice. He used to tell us that these were the hallmarks of Hinduism.
We used to chant the Gayatri Mantra with him – five times in the morning and five times in the evening.
Slowly I found myself to be mesmerized by his love for Durga. She adorned his puja room and the rest of the gods were dressed well but the idols were small. Even the Thakur nested in satin covers was small and despite his beginning prays always started with the Thakur his heart was married to Durga .
I remember the day I sat with him in the puja room and asked him about Rama and Sita. I was barely twelve and very upset. I just started to read the Amar Chitra Kathas and read that Sita had been exiled. Why? My young mind could not understand the complexities involved.
Didn’t Rama love his wife? Why did he put the wishes of his people before justice and truth? Wasn’t this miscarriage of justice?
He had smiled at me benevolently and talked about the Yugs- the Satyug, Treta, Dwapar and Kaliyug and that the actions of gods were taken accordingly. I gave him a listening ear as he talked about Rama being Maryadapurushottam but my young mind could not accept that explanation.
Sita was true! Why wasn’t that enough? Why didn’t he fight for her rights. My grandfather replied that it wasn’t right on my part to judge the past by today’s standards of right and wrong. Just like in the Yugas, morals and values and actions differed but still had to be within the bonds of Dharma.
Dharma? And he explained it to be performing one’s duty based on Truth, Compassion and justice.
I had him there and was quick to point out that Sita did not get justice and in the end she committed suicide than go back to her power hungry husband.
My grandfather had laughed and then even harder when I told him that I preferred Krishna, Durga and Kali any day to Rama.
He told me that they Krishna and Rama were one and the same just incarnates from different Yugs.
He was quite indulgent when I told him that I loved Durga and Kali more as they epitomized female power. He had a budding feminist chatting with him and he enjoyed the conversation.
I had become a Durga disciple. She was a mother who delivered justice and yet was compassionate. Then came Krishna for saving Drupadi where her own husbands could do nothing and then Shiva for being the Bholanath, a god in love with nature, humanity, who hung out with ghosts and though scary in appearance had a heart of gold.
Rama? I could never bring myself to forgive him. When we visited the temple I prayed before all gods but him. It was as if he had committed a mistake he had yet to regret.
My grandpa was exasperated; my sisters joined the bandwagon in our discussion about the Ramayana. We had been brought up like men as one female relative had once complained while she was caught in the middle of our fight about the Ramayana with the adults on one side and us girls on the other. She had a tough time putting up with our aggressive protests that Sita had been discarded and refused to put blind faith in Rama as a god.
Silence had fallen at home by the lady’s voracious scoldings that went off the tangent and talked about granting too much freedom of thought, lack of spirituality, western thinking etc etc
My grandma who considered herself to be a simple woman gave a pat reply that in our household men and women were equal. We respected each other just as the gods did and yet granted each other freedom to voice our opinions. Even in heavens there was discord due to differences in opinion so why not at homes too? She believed in communication and equality, a true disciple of Durga Mata like my grandpa.
On hindsight I realize we had a feminist household where we were told to let the shakti (potential) within us manifest.
Rama and I continue to have an uneasy relationship. Ashok Banker’s Ramayana made me love him but I continue to be at odds with the tale of him exiling his wife.
Today my knowledge of Hinduism is inadequate but my love for the gods and goddesses comes from the spirit of tolerance, compassion, wisdom and justice.
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