103. Nostalgic Childhood

Thousand Full Moon: Sri.T.N.Nagarajaiah, 86 years.
Contributed By: Savithri Devaraj

I decided to interview him for this blog, and found out so many interesting things about his childhood. He has lived and travelled in the US for the last 20+ years, visited France and Hong Kong, travelled widely in India, East-to-West and North-to-South, but I can see he takes great pride in his early years, and loves the Mysore-Srirangapatna area.  I was surprised at how well he remembers the details of the incidents, be it names, dates, or specific quotes. I have not reproduced the discussions as they occurred, mainly because it happened in Kannada, my mother tongue. I hope the reader gets a flavor for his experiences in this blog.

Born in Sringeri in 1927, he is a disciplined self-made man. He had a rather difficult childhood as his mother passed away before he was three and his dad had to travel to different districts as part of his job. He remembers a few things from his early childhood. Little Nagaraj was left to the loving care of three of his Muslim neighbors, whom he fondly remembers even now as Rahima Bi, Fatima Bi, and Minni Bi. They provided for a majority of his needs until he was six or seven. He then went to live with his grandmother in Tarikere who was almost blind, but she made sure he was well provided. He remembers her back was almost bent at right angles to her legs. Her physical disabilities never kept her from providing for my dad. The house they lived in Tarikere had plenty of snakes which were quite harmless (no surprise Nagaraja was comfortable around snakes). Once he remembers his grandmother complaining that the rope used to draw water from the well kept slipping from her hands. It was found that she had dropped a couple of snakes in the well, while the rope sat intact on the side of the well!  

After his grandmother’s time, his dad cared for him mostly with occasional help from some of his neighbors. He has survived some very tough times during this period. One incident during this phase brought tears to my eyes. He says he should have passed away from stomach ailments and round worms when he was nine or ten. Infant mortality was too high at that time and it was quite common to lose life to simple ailments. Medicine was normally distributed at post offices, for lack of dispensaries or medical stores. My grandfather had to spare nine paise to buy medicine for round worms, which had to be consumed the night before, and the next morning he had to purge his system with a cup of castor oil. All of next day, he passed dozens and dozens of round worms. He even got a reward from his dad for swallowing the castor oil without complaint. Such were the living conditions then.

During his life at Srirangapatna, he remembers that he had just one shirt on his back. So he used to wash it in the river every morning, dry it and wear the same shirt for a while, that is, until one day the river swept away his only shirt! A kindhearted tailor took him home, made him a shirt and took care of his needs. During those days, before electricity was available in the villages, after sunset children would await the arrival of the man with a ladder and lantern who would light an oil lamp at the corner of every street, it lasted for less than an hour.  All important work would be done during that period. When his dad (my grandfather) was transferred to French Rocks (present day Pandavapura), he had to walk 3 miles to catch a train to go to school. He appealed to the District Superintendent of Police who immediately had his father transferred back to Srirangapatna.  On occasions when the train was late or didn’t show up, he remembers walking nine miles to Mysore with dozens of his friends and a couple of teachers along the railway track to go to school. 

As a teenager, he had to take care of his half-brother (11 years younger) and half-sister (10 years younger), cook and clean and then run to school. He remembers participating in Quit India movement marches in 1942. He also remembers the long lines in front of Burma Shell during war when everything was rationed- A half bottle of kerosene per family, 3yards of cloth for men and 6 yards for women for Diwali, same unbleached cloth – make a saree or a dhothi, your choice. In those days, SSLC exam results were announced on the radio.  After receiving the good news of passing his exam, he accompanied a friend to swim and relax in the Cauvery that afternoon.  They were used to swimming that stretch quite often, but that day somehow the river was swollen and rough. After a few feet, my dad couldn’t locate his friend, Mr.Suryanarayan. He went back and forth in the rough waters to locate him, and after a few seconds found only his arms above water in an upstream stretch. Quickly my dad mustered all his strength to pull him on to his back and he barely swam back to the shore. After the friend was breathing normally again, they thanked their stars for their lives (and for passing the exam).  His friend still lives in Mysore, and they exchange this story every now and then.

One of the touching moments he remembers during his college was an incident with his History professor, one Mr.P.G.Satyagirinathan, at Maharaja’s College, Mysore. The class started at 10:30AM every day, and my dad was late every day arriving in class at 10:40 or 10:45AM. The professor watched this for a while before he decided to talk to him one day after class: “Mr.Nagaraj, I would like to see you come in on time at least one day to my class before I retire”.  My dad explained his predicament. He had to cook, clean and take care of the siblings’ needs before he ran 2 KM to the train station at Srirangapatna for the 9:30AM train. The passenger train arrived in Mysore station at 10:30AM after stopping at 2-3 other stations, and he ran another couple of KM from the train station to the college, which brought him at 10:40 or 10:45 every day to class.  The professor was very compassionate and let him come to class whenever he could. There was a strong bond between students and teachers those days. Many teachers invited their students to eat food in their houses regularly. If a student looked tired in the morning, he was sent to the teacher’s house for breakfast, and quite often many had skipped their meals. It was during this time he had the opportunity to meet Rajaji (last governor general of India) when he visited Maharaja’s college, Mysore, and gave the guard of honor for the marching band. It was a proud day for all students.

We discussed a lot of other small incidents. I clearly feel that his teenage years were very interesting, lots of political action and difficult situations to overcome to get an education. In perspective, I must say I had a very uninteresting childhood. More than anything I am impressed by his memory of the details and by the clarity of his thoughts. I have also heard my mom speak fondly of her year in Mysore with my dad, before they moved into Bangalore. My dad taught my mom to ride a bike at the foothills of Chamundi Hills. They have memories of renting bikes on many evenings and going around Mysore, now I see why my father loves the city.  I also realize trains have been a constant in my dad’s life. He used them throughout his high school and college years. He worked for the Southern Railways for 35 years from 1950 to 1985. Our house in Bangalore is less than a couple of hundred feet from the Mysore train tracks. He still wakes to the 6AM Mysore train whistle.