My uncle Debabrata Basu wrote a
series of sketches, about his grandmother, his aunts and his mother.
This is about his third aunt.
Nirmala
My third aunt (Pishima) was called Nirmala, nicknamed Ninu. We used to
call her Naw’ Pishima. In many ways, of all my aunts, she was the brightest
star.
As was the tradition in those days, she was married off at the age of
ten or eleven. Into Pathuriaghata’s well-known and established Trilokya Ghosh’s
family, to Bhupendra Krishna Ghosh. My uncle was a wonderful and unique human
being. My Naw’ Pishima was devoted to her husband. Not just the devotion to her
husband, but her devotion to her parents and her love for her brothers and sisters
was truly unique.
Their house in Pathuriaghata was huge, especially in its interiors. A grand
mahal, a large temple facing a vast courtyard, an andar mahal, an enormous garden
– all these were part of the sprawling Ghosh family home. Of this huge
household, the empress, the centrepiece was my Naw’ Pishima.
She was a woman of great beauty, but she was never proud of her beauty.
I have heard of great philanthropists; one hears only the names of men, and if
there were a list of women, among them would be my Naw’ Pishima. And when she
gave to someone in need, her left hand did not know what her right hand did.
How many people, how many widows, how many families lived and grew with
her support no one knows. It is impossible to find from any records. She
believed in gods and goddesses, but she often said that people are her gods. So,
freely, with an open heart, she gave to the needy. So many students, boys and
girls, could study higher education because of her. There are many instances of
such cases within the family, one such was her elder sister’s youngest son.
Another was our own family, which could survive our hard times because of her
generosity.
Of course, in this, she was fully supported by her husband. My uncle was
not only rich but also broad-minded and generous. He lived a simple life, with
no luxuries. All through the year, he wore a thick vest, and a short dhoti. He ate
meals of brown rice, lentils and vegetable curries. Unlike many feudal rich men
of the times, he had no interest in wine and women. His hand of generosity was
matched by his ear for music. From all over India, he would invite the great exponents
of classical music to Kolkata, to the Nikhil Banga Sangeet Sammelan. Of this
organisation, he was the founder, and the chief patron. Its sole purpose was to
quench the thirst for those desperate for great music.
So, I have seen in their house guests such as Pandit Onkarnath Thakur,
Ustad Faiz Khan Saheb, Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali, Kesharbai Kerkar, Gangubai
Hangal, Padmavati Shaligram. In those days, there was no practice of staying in
hotels, and like relatives, the singers stayed in their house as house-guests. Not
just singers, but all types of great classical musicians –instrumentalists like
Ustad Allauddin Khan, Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, Ustad Hafiz Ali Khan, and
Ravishankar would come to stay. They would eat at their home, practice in the
mornings, and play or sing at the gatherings in the evenings. In the outer
mahal, their inspiration would come from my uncle and from the inner mahal, ensuring
the practicalities of food and stay was my Naw Pishima.
In addition, almost permanently, there lived in their house a few
musicians. Like Gyanendra Prasad Goswami and his uncle Radhika Prasad Goswami.
Music was my uncle Naw Pishemoshai’s soul. He did not sing much but he
established classical music in the Bengali community. Initially, these events
were held in a public hall, but later, he held them in his own house in the
outer drawing room. They were homely gatherings often. There sang Ramkumar
Chattopadhyay. Well-known artistes like Ali Akbar and Ravishankar played their
instruments. Uday Shankar has also been to their house many a time. There’s no
classical musician of those days whose oil painting portrait does not grace
their gallery.
And there were no tickets there, the door was open to anyone thirsty for
great music. Everyone listened to the soulful music with their souls.
And so I see, when there’s a gathering in the absence of my Naw Pishemoshai,
with Hemanta Mukhopadhyay or Sandhya Mukhopadhyay, before they would sing, they
would first sing in praise of Bhupendra Krishna and call this house a musician’s
pilgrimage.
Pishemoshai had a close connection with the families at Pathuriaghata’s Thakurbari
and Jorasanko. He had an intimate relationship with all those interested in
classical music in those days.
This great devotee of classical music was inspired and encouraged by my
Naw Pishima. Naw Pishemoshai never touched a drop of alcohol in all his life,
he had only one addiction – music, but oh, the irony of Fate! At the age of fifty-five,
in 1941, he passed away from cirrhosis of liver.
The twin combination of spending for music and for donations to the
needy were now beginning to be a strain on the household funds. But in the
absence of her husband, my Naw Pishima did not restrain her donations. When she
invited someone for a meal, she did not believe the guest had eaten well until there
was food left over on the plate. As soon as the plate was empty, she would
insist on filling it up.
He only luxury in life was her daily freshly laundered clothes.
And she loved people with joy unbound. Not just her parents, her sisters
and brother, but everyone everywhere. Her only brother was my father. Towards
the end of his life, he would often call her on our new phone, and say “Naw
Didi, I want to have koraishutir kochuri, can you send me some rightaway?”.
Within the hour, these would arrive, not just for my father, but as a full meal
for the entire huge household.
My six aunts had very different levels of wealth, some were very rich,
and some struggled to make ends meet. But there was never a difference in their
bonding. They did not hesitate to give or accept.
My Naw Pishima was so much of a giver, even late in her life when she
could not move from her bed, she would tell her children, give him that thing
as a gift. And if there wasn’t an appropriate gift to give, then she would give
money.
Such a mind is really rare, so among all my six aunts, Naw Pishima has a
very special place in my mind.
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