The events that brought them together are worth recounting, more so as they live exclusively in the recesses of my ageing brain. Today seems the appropriate time to do so.
My mother's early life is quite extraordinary, particularly at a time when girls had scant freedom and their only dream was a good marriage. But Kamala Sinha was of another mettle. The daughter of a freedom fighter she had to learn the art of survival at an age when little girls dream of beautiful clothes and fairy tale weddings. Being her father's daughter, she accepted the ungainly rough and hand woven clothes that she wore with great pride, even if they chaffed her tender skin. Her father being often in prison, it was her young mother and her who kept the family going without loss of dignity and that meant that the little girl was sent to the market late in the evening when vegetables are cheap and even then it was the tiniest potatoes she bought knowing that she was the one who would have to peel them. And when he was home, it was she who had to tend to the wounds of her father and his companions when they returned home after political rally where they bore the brunt of police canes and batons as true soldiers of non-violence. Freedom had a whole new meaning for this unique child.
She always talked of her childhood without resentment or bitterness. She knew that hers was special and privileged. Her greatest strength was the presence of two extraordinary women, real troopers: her paternal grandmother and her mother. They knew Kamala was special and did everything to support her dreams and her biggest one was education. They fought with their son/husband in true Gandhian style and Mama finished her schooling, went to Hostel at Benares Hindu University for her BA, then did her MA and even her LLB. With no more degrees to fight for, the inevitable question of her marriage crept up and here it is her father who understood her desire and accepted it even if it went against all social norms. Mama was determined not to marry in British India as she did not want to give birth to what she called a slave child. She was willing to sacrifice her chance at motherhood if that was to be. What she promised her father was that should India become independent and she still be of marriageable age, she would marry whoever he chose!
But the feisty woman was not one to sit at home cooling her heels. She decided to work and work she did for hod your breath: the British! This was a decision that father and daughter took after long hours of heated debates. Mama had come to know of the plight of war widows in the villages where their pension was being usurped by wily male members, and she wanted to set things right. The only way to do so was by joining the administration. She did and soon was driving a truck on dirt roads to reach the remotest villages of Uttar Pradesh. She also had to move to Delhi where she lived alone in Mandi house. The only rider was that her mother has insisted that a faithful servant accompany her. If I remember well he was one of the criminals by grandfather had represented and got freed! He was a one eyed man and was her shadow. Time passe and I guess she was reconciled to her fate.
But Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, the three Fates had other pans and were weaving another destiny across the seas in the tiny island of Mauritius where after completing his studies in England and being called to the BAR, Ram had not found a wife. A promise made to a mother by a son who left the sleepy village of Barka Kopa in Bihar , necessitated that wife be found in India. A potential bride had been found but my paternal grandmother's death and the refusal of her family to wait a whole year put an end to that foray. I do not know whether he too reconciled to life as a bachelor. What he did not know was that nothing could happen before August the 15th 1947.
Independence Day dawned. Kamala was 30, and thirty was well passed the age to wed. For Ram too this was a red letter day as he decided to leave his island and opt to join the Indian Foreign Service. He was posted to Prague to open the Indian Embassy.
It was time for the Fates to weave their web! They set things in motion and a friend of a friend told my grandfather about Ram. Th two men met and I think it was love at first sight as they both shared the same values. Though it meant seeing his favourite child leave Indian shores, he felt that Ram was the perfect match for Kamala. He must have had deep insight as one would wonder how a small town girl could become a diplomat's wife. Mama remembered her promise and accepted the match without a word. It was 1948.
Papa courted mama in true European style taking her to Hamilton's to buy an engagement ring and riding in a horse cart all the way to Lodhi gardens to buy her roses! She was taken aback but followed him with stars in her eyes in spite of the glares of her one eyed minder.
They got married on May 23rd 1949.
Their love story ended on June 13th 1990, when she breathed her last in his arms. He had fulfilled the one promise she had asked of him on her wedding day: that he would be the one to perform her last rites!
