Growing up in Kanpur-2 Mr. Bhadauriya and his mad cow

Behind House no 8 in Laxmi Rattan Cotton Mills Officers colony in Kanpur where we lived was a sprawling compound owned by an interesting gentleman named Mr. Bhadauriya. A portly man with an impressive moustache and many rings on his fingers, Mr. B was also the head of security at the Mills. In his compound he grew vegetables, fruits and even had a shed for his cow.

I remember making trips to his farm with my father on many misty (these trips must have been made either during winter vacations or during summer vacations) mornings.

We would go across to check the yield of vegetables and fruits. Seeing seeds turn into saplings into a Bhindi or Baingan plant must have been quite fascinating. Picking fresh green chillies or coriander and mint leaves for chutney and raita was a wonderful routine for us.

Mr. Bhadauriya was as dreaded for his moustache as he was for the cow he had in his shed.  Mr. B’s cow was ill-mannered, uncouth and quite mad. She probably suffered our early morning trips to her area only because on some of those occasions she had seen Mr. B accompany us.

During the morning trips she would tolerate us and be on her best of behavior. But God forbid if we dared enter the compound at any other time.

It was a sunny winter afternoon during one winter break when we decided to fly kites on our terrace. Our cousin Babloo da was at the helm and he was assisted ably by Mini di, my eldest sister. My other sister, Nini along with our younger cousin Bunty da was given the task to fetch any kites Babloo da knocked down.  Since I was too small and insignificant, I was not actively included in any of their games. I would just amble about, observe and try to get their attention.

Being quite an expert kite flyer, Babloo da conquered several kites. We could see one of those glide towards the Mr B’s compound. Bunty da and Nini di were instructed to recover it before somebody else laid a claim to it. The two ran down the steps, across the courtyard towards the farm. They scampered all over the farm, eyes glued to the floating kite, trying to judge which way the kite would fall. Mr B’s cow did not like that at all. She jumped high up and snorted loudly. Not content with the effect this display of displeasure had on the two intruders, she furiously kicked a cloud of dust. Oblivious to the warnings, the two kids greedily waited to hunt down more kites.

Instead of the kites, they soon saw the cow charging towards them. How they ran that day! From the terrace, I could sense their fear and the cow’s anger! And I could also hear Nini scream, “Mummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! “

Growing up in Kanpur

 

A Tribute to Paripoorna Nand Verma

 

Laxmi Rattan Cotton Mills officers colony in Kanpur would seem a dilapidated compound now but when we were growing up there it was full of fun, love and affection. Looking back I do not think it would have been such a grand place, located across the Mills on GT-Kalpi Road, but in my memories it reigns supreme as one of the best places in the world. As an adult I realize now that people who lived there made that place special.

Most special amongst them was an elderly, septuagenarian gentleman named Shri Paripoorna Nand Verma. Babaji, as all the kids called him, was a towering literary and political figure of those times. A freedom fighter and an authority on Hindi Literature, Babaji was the younger brother of  Dr Sampoorna Nand Verma, the Chief Minister of UP.

 

Babaji was looked upon with great respect and admiration by old and young alike. Our house was separated from his by just a hedge, and we would often hear Babaji’s typewriter click deep into the night. A man of principles and strict discipline, Babaji was always working. I remember my mother often telling us not to make noise around the garden if we saw the lights in Babaji’s study.

 

I do not recall ever having a conversation with him but I do remember that he had a name for all the kids of the colony. I was his Mausi, Gudiya, another one was his Dadi  and then there were lots of Chachas, Tais and Mamis. What made him special to the kids was the fact that he gave us plenty of comics to read. Fresh from the press, those hindi comics opened up a whole new world for us. Amar Chitra Kathas, Phantoms, Mandrake, Chacha Chaudharys….we were allowed to read as many as we could as long as we returned those books in two days in the same condition as we had taken them. Gudiya, the eight year old Dadi was the librarian and would issue those books to us.

Every other day we would line up in the evening across his dimly lit study under scrutinizing glare of Nehru, Gandhi and Lal Bahadur Shastri hung on the walls telling us to behave and be good.

For years we did that. Read books and more books. For years we saw Babaji amble about in his garden under the blooming Har Singar tree always doing something important.  Those were good days and those were good people. I wish that my children also have the good fortune of meeting and interacting with people like Baba ji.