Rangoon Reminiscence

A frequent reminiscence of my maternal grandmother, 'Didima', paints an everlasting image of a lady who was more energetic than her grandchildren. The vim with which she executed household chores amazed us! As young kids, my sister and I counted the days for our Summer break to be with our maternal grandparents. It seemed so festive; most of my cousins would also visit them around the same time, setting the stage up for a melange of happy faces, fun and frolic,infused with liberal doses of humor; arising mostly out of amusement watching Didima scurrying around the house. Everything worked to clockwork timing in that house. Retired as a Wing Commander from the Indian Air force, my grandfather was a stickler for time and I could write quite at length about his punctuality, but I shall keep that for another day. Didima performed a range of activities through the day, from serving us meals to ensuring that the part timer cleaned every corner of the house, while she followed the victim of her suspicion around the house with precision. Once her vision enabled her to swipe out two peeled onions that were tucked firmly into the folds of the maid's saree as she sat down to grind spices for our meal. While the maid had to be content with less onions in her curry that day, Didima's epic discovery remained etched in our minds. Shuttling between the pantry and the dining table while serving meals, she would pause in front of us briefly with her usual refrain, "I'll be back in two shakes of a duck's tail!" She would always be the last one to eat her meals, owing partly to tradition and partly to her discomfort in using her dentures to eat. Dressed in a crisp red bordered cotton saree, her hair tied in a neat bun, she would complete the ensemble with a giant red dot on her forehead. She took us out to the parks in the evenings. As she stepped out of the gate, she would ensure that she had her dentures in place , just in case a neighbour's greeting necessitated a polite response. Her day began at 4 a.m every morning. She would run her fingers on our backs at bedtime and share reflections of her childhood in Rangoon. Born on 21st August, 1925, Didima was christened as Biva (Vibha) meaning ' cosmic light'.Her father, Rebati Raman Ghosh, was an Indian civil servant posted in Rangoon.The large Indian population in Burma was a legacy of the British empire. Burma had become a part of the British Indian dominion in 1895.She had eight siblings. Her recollections of Rangoon lent prismatic hues to our understanding of its landscape and culture. She grew up and attended primary and middle school in Rangoon. Burmese or 'Ba- maa - sa' was part of her curriculum. In Burma, they enjoyed prolonged monsoons and short dry spells of winter. The countryside was a tapestry of crop fields, mountains and rivers but the town had a curious blend of parks, lakes, pagodas and colonial structures. She would count from 1-10 in Ba-maa-sa and recite rhymes to entertain us. 'Minglaba!' ( Hello!) sounded so sweet in her voice. Then I loved the nasal sound 'thun-ya' ( derived from the Sanskrit 'Shunya')and she would continue, " tiet, hni..."(one, two). Her rare ability to learn languages, helped her to speak in Punjabi, Tamil and a bit of Russian that she picked up from a visiting delegation . As children they studied about the heroic exploits of King Mingdon and Thibaw. She told us that the world's best rubies ( called 'pigeon blood ruby' ) were mined from Burma. Through her accounts, the mind captured the verdant green of the flood plains above the Irrawady delta. She informed us about the palaces and monasteries of Ava, Mandalay. She handed down the recipe of the famous Burmese 'Khow Suey' which is still a family favorite. Like the devil in a fairy tale, the Second World War brought in a retrograde flow into their idyllic life in Rangoon. Air raid precautions were taken and trenches were dug out for safety. Regular safety drills were conducted in schools and offices. The bombing of Pearl Harbor shocked the world. News came in of Britain's greatest military humiliation- the fall of Singapore. The Allied forces failed to check Japan's steady advance through Thailand. Didima described the sight of numerous airplanes hovering in the night sky, their shimmering metal and flickering lights making them appear like fireflies, the sound was akin to an approaching swarm of bees. Then Japan blitzed Rangoon on the 23rd and the 25th of December 1941,pushing the British and Indian forces further North and cutting off the Burma Road that carried vital fuel and ammunition supplies. The fanatical courage with which the Japs attacked , created mass hysteria. The Indians in Rangoon were evacuated by the British. The exodus in 1941 took place either through the Arakan pass into the Chittagong hill tracts or across the Irrawady and Chindwin rivers into Manipur. Didima's family crossed over to Comilla via Chittagong in caravans and mule columns through the inhospitable terrain and climate of the Arakan. Dysentery and Malaria were rampant in the marshy, impenetrable jungles. Yet, it was Providence that, Didima's family was safely out of Rangoon. She completed her schooling at Comilla Government Girls' High School and got married two years later in 1943, at the age of 18. My grandfather had by then, served as a young Air force cadet in Rangoon. Those were the bloodiest days in his youth when he washed his face in choked basins full of earth and blood. His family hailed from Sripur, in Chittagong. My mother was the youngest of their five children. As a couple, my maternal grandparents stood out as a shining example of love, loyalty and commitment. A few souvenirs from Burma, like a lacquered cigar case , sits on my mother's bedside table now. Trapped in it , are the misty reminiscences of Rangoon..