My mother came from the "Kar" family of Cuttack. It is said that the Kar's came to Orissa from the north, either Bengal or Assam. From 7th century to almost 9th century a Kar-Bhauma dynasty ruled the State. It is believed that they helped introduce Sanskrit in Orissa by opening educational institutions and promoting Vedic scholarship. In my view, the members in my mother family are remnants of this clan. They are tall with sharp features. To me they are bright and scholarly endowed with dignity, self-esteem and sensitivity.
The roots of the Misra's are said to be in the modern day Kanauj. They were brought in to Orissa a thousand years ago to participate in the Temple rituals. Unlike the Kar's, the Misra families operated on land donated by the kings. Orissa kings were kind to the Brahmins and the Misra families became land-owners in their areas. Normally Misra's married in the proximity of their villages to safeguard their Brahminical interests. My father's marriage could be considered an exception.
My mother was one of two daughters with six brothers. Five of of the brothers were younger to her. My grandfather was a lawyer and served as a Devan (Minister) to a local king. Through inheritance they were large land-owners in their area. I have sweet memories of visiting their ancestral house during my early childhood. They had an opulent and religious life style that signified the culture of old India.
Possibly unknown to both families, my father had taken the vow to sacrifice himself for the cause of the country. He belonged to the young and bright revolutionary group that wanted the British to leave. They also dreamed of a shining India free of the social taboos.. My mother in her youthful outing appreciated his cause. She might have had hard time to understand the condition of the new assumed poverty. I was born a few days before India was declared independent. She was eighteen. I discovered after her death that she kept an account of every penny she spent. She was possibly preparing herself for a life of sacrifice.
Through a Government decree, my grandfather was uprooted from his land holdings in 1951. He possibly was too dignified to beg and manipulate. They left their estate and came to stay in a rental apartment at Cuttack. Litigation continued but never ended. My grandmother developed mental sickness. It was a time of serious stress for the family. In spite of personal difficulties, my grandfather supported and admired my father's cause. India retains her values through the conviction of a few individuals appearing in history.
My grandfather's crowded apartment was my alternate housing throughout my high school years. We would do our prayers in the evening, we would read scriptural material, we would do our homework and eat together a common meal. We would get up early to do our studies and then go to school. All in the household were older to me and all paid attention to me. My mother's younger sister who was the youngest in the family became my close friend. Sadly, we lost her along with my younger brother in 1959. My grandmother also passed away.
My mother depended on her brothers to maintain our family. It was a time of stress. Her older brother had developed an expensive lifestyle that landed him in deep debt. The royals did horse-racing and gambling. He passed away in his '40s. Three younger brothers took to teaching and were successful. But they passed away relatively young. Two youngest brothers and several widows were left behind. The youngest uncle lost his wife in 2015. He has a school-going young child. The other uncle is unmarried and acts as the guardian to the household. Other children are married and have independent households.
My visit to the uncle's house is like a homecoming. It is a place in the world where I am always welcome. They operate with the old culture where a visitor is treated with all novelties. One feels the affection. India's traditional hospitality lives through the lives of such individuals. I have had many loving mentors, but my grandfather's house was pure love. There was total acceptance, no pretension. They had their relatives, who were equally dignified. Sometimes I do wonder how such a culture indeed developed!
The older uncle is a lawyer. He was a bright student and an eloquent speaker. His mind is sharp and his arguments are clean. Dressed in pure white, he represents the old Brahminical discipline and scholarship. He taught me Sanskrit recitation, also paid my tuition when needed. At 72, he is as dignified as before, but the load of the family has worn him out. He is struggling possibly to make sense of life, but retains his kind personality. Giving is an individual trait, it is an inborn quality.
The younger uncle retired from Government work. He has become sickly and depressed. His wife's early death has taken its toll. Cancer had its own play, it gave false hopes before finally flaring up. The young daughter is bright and is a good student. She does vocal music. She has other nieces who are similar in age. They play together and share life.
My first aunt has six children, all married. She lives with one of her sons several miles away. My second aunt has three children. She lives with her son in Bhubaneswar. The third aunt had four children and has lost the eldest child. She is part of the Cuttack household. The fourth aunt has one child, a boy. She works for the University and lives in Bhubaneswar. My mother was a counsel to my aunts. Modern India is confusing to hold up the family relationship. The aunts are trying their life as widows.
All children together produced a musical concert. Some did vocal music, some did instrumental. I rewarded them for their effort. Music helps us retrace our path in culture. I wished them well. Aunt had prepared some good food and we ate together. I spoke to my uncles on their life and family events. The youngest uncle might need eye surgery and I committed to help.
It was time to leave. I had to start my return journey the next morning. My lawyer uncle wanted to give me company to Bhubaneswar. We looked for transportation and boarded a bus. The journey was an hour and then we took a rickshaw to my sister's house. Though it must have been hard on him, I appreciated my uncle's gesture. Many in the world like us, only a few love us. Love shows up in interaction and not in words!
