Death of an Institution

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You know I am no sociologist nor a hopeless romantic.

I am just a bemused spectator of the "Passing Show" (that was the name of a popular brand of cigarettes in my childhood when we used to collect the empties and give them Rupee Values).

And I am going to talk about an Institution that is fast vanishing in my Society: "Large Families and Larger Hearts".

A middle-class family of about 15 members (fixed plus floating) living under one roof was not uncommon in my childhood.

Now it is as extinct as the hard COD.

Yesterday I said: "We were unique: we saw and lived through the fastest-paced of Revolutions in Society, History and Technology".

Today I am just going to state some 'historical' facts as I know them (without comments).

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My father was the last of four brothers. He lost his father early. His eldest brother (GVS) took over the family responsibilities. He brought up, educated, married off, settled his younger brothers in life and professions, and looked after the welfare of their families as long as he lived. He himself had half a dozen children, lost his wife at 40, took the help of and cared for his mother who lived to a hundred. Whenever my father was in trouble with health or job, all 9 of us used to land up at my GVS-uncle's place and stay for months. So with the other siblings of my father. In spite of financial hardships (GVS was just a Lecturer), there was no day when less than 15 members lived boisterously under his roof. And, when he (and his 80-year-old mother) left, post-retirement, for a new town as Principal of a new College, he took me, then my cousin, then my sister and so on and so forth serially to stay with him and pursue our college studies, saying: "Life without kids at home is no life!". And he was a published poet with "Songs & Sonnets" and other Collections under his belt.

Same story with my wife's maternal grandpa: he lost his wife at 36 leaving half a dozen kids; but he took in another half a dozen grandkids, nephews and nieces under his roof, got them educated, married them off (one to me), took care of their kids' education, all with the help of his widowed sister. And he was no propertied landlord: just a middle-class Civil Engineer who never owned a home or a vehicle (but he renewed his Heavy Vehicle Driver's license till his death at 90). And when he visited us at KGP, he read a dozen English books in my bookshelf and borrowed a dozen more (and returned them after a year with new covers!)

My eldest b-i-l, GRR (IAS), lost his Padmashree father (Dr G V Chalam credited with ushering in Rice Revolution) suddenly in his prime, leaving half a dozen younger brothers and sisters of my b-i-l and a widowed aunt. GRR (who married my medico sister) rose to the occasion, and brought up all of his siblings, educated them, settled them in their lives, and helped my own family in various ways; and still does (he is the engine behind my abol tabol blogposts)

My HM father, soon after his marriage, welcomed my mother's brothers and sisters to stay with him in his home, educated and looked after them as if they were his own siblings. In return, my maternal uncle, the only MD Doctor in our family, took in myself, my sister and a couple more of distant relatives under his roof and care for years together. And he was the health-care-insurance of hundreds of his extended family members, relatives and friends. And it was in his bookshelf that I met Maugham, Wodehouse, Sherlock Holmes and COD.

The list is endless.

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All these megalith households were possible because none of the dozens of kids had cots or even a mattresses (only rolled up king-size wicker mats). The Hall converted itself into a dormitory at night. All had to be up and about early in the morning lest the servant maid sweep them away with her broom.

I am reminded of Sam Weller's description of a 'night-resort' in his London: the beds were rope-beds: couple of ropes joined together a foot or two apart with their ends tied to nails on the opposite walls; the matron would just untie the knot at one end at 6 AM, and the dreamer would land with a thud on the floor, wide awake.

And there was no concept of dining table and chairs. Everyone squatted on the floor in a winding snaking row skirting pillars that held the roof, with excuses for plates in front of them as they were serially served.

None of us was worse off. The bonhomie, camaraderie, boisterous tales, jokes, magic shows, impromptu music and quiz sessions, word-building games, gossip and such wonderful stuff as is unheard of nowadays used to bring the house down. There was safety, security, help, healing touch and horseplay in numbers. No one thought of privacy being invaded, because no one had ever thought of privacy. Whether it was home work, exams, or tense moments, there were always a couple of seniors or even neighbors at hand to help.

AND NOW!!!

I just write a "conscience cheque" (and tear it up on second thoughts)


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