The Matchmakers

57 years ago, on Wednesday, the 26th June 1963, we (I and Rajani) got married. 

Ours is an arranged marriage.  And the credit for its success goes to the two Matchmakers who discovered that we were made for each other.

One of the two MMs was Kumud Annachatre, a distant sister of mine. She was a doctor, and while pursuing her studies fell in love (like what most Doctors do) with another doctor in the making. He was our second MM, Mukund Deshpande.  After getting degrees and marrying, Mukund opened his private dispensary and Kumud joined the KEM hospital.  Both of these were located near our residence, 26 Rasta Peth.   

Kumud was very fond of my parents, especially mother.  She started frequenting our place for all sorts of reasons: breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just for the sake of meeting us.  She was extremely talkative and fun loving.  I knew her from childhood. Her brother, Padmakar, was once living with us in Thane, while doing his apprenticeship in Mumbai.   It was he who introduced me to Hollywood movies and English literature.  

Mukund was a distant maternal uncle (Mama) of Rajani.  He was equally talkative and had great persuasive skills.  Had he not entered medical profession, he would have been a great HR person. He hailed from Karad but then, for Kumud’s sake, settled in Pune.  He was also a social worker, taking interest in the lives of his poor patients. He would often be found providing more counselling than medicines to them in his dispensary.

So he started visiting 26 Rasta Peth with Kumud as well.  He also fell in love with our parents and our family.

I soon became his friend and started visiting his dispensary.  We would discuss on a variety of subjects. Sometimes, my cousin brother, Madhukar also joined us. Slowly, an idea germinated in his mind: why not arrange a marriage between Rajani and me? He started sowing the seeds of this in the minds of Rajani, her mother and grandmother.  He had a good rapport with them and they slowly agreed to give it a thought.  The moment I submitted my thesis to the University and got an employment in Gokhale, he and Kumud pounced on me and my parents with this idea.  We were not very enthusiastic about it but then agreed to have a ‘kanda pohe’ session that they arranged.

I went to Rajani’s place with my father and brother.  She, typically her head bent, brought in dishes of Shira (rather than Kanda-pohe) and answered the usual questions of my father.  The mission proved a total disaster!  I said no, I am not going to marry. Mukund asked me, why not? I said haughtily, I did not like marrying just on the basis of one meeting where I could barely see the face of the girl.  The matchmaker Mukund said no problem. He arranged the meeting of two of us, of all the places, in KEM hospital.  Kumud let us in in her clinic there and left on some pretext. Then I said one meeting was not enough.  No problem, the MM replied nonchalantly.  He arranged another meeting in the Lucky restaurant at Deccan Gymkhana.  He got us seated in a ‘family room’ and went away.   Still a couple of meetings were required to take the monumental decision, I told him.  Again, no problem! He would bring Rajani on a scooter to his dispensary and keep two of us in the examination room while he saw his patients in the waiting room.

I was exasperated by all these meeting places. I knew, if I asked for more meetings, he would take us to Sassoon hospital or to an Amrutatulya hotel.

In the meanwhile, the MMs had already got our parents on their side.  Rajani too joined them. Enough of these meetings, she told me sternly.

I gave in.

Thank you, Dr. Mukund and Dr. Kumud.  Your diagnosis was correct. 

26 June 2020

 (The painting is by Archis Kulkarni. Specially drawn for the blog)

 

My father's Father's Day

My Father’s Father’s Day

पिता स्वर्गः पिता धर्मः

Long time ago, on 10^th August 1910, was born my father, Prabhakar Vithal Kulkarni.  We will be celebrating his 110^th birth anniversary this August.

I do not know much about his school days; the only thing I knew was that he had to leave his education when he was around 20, when he lost his father, and had to search for employment. He got a job of a junior clerk in the Income Tax office.  He got married in 1930 and lived in Pune –Thane – Pune in rented premises.  

He lived simply and linearly.  His meager salary was the only source of income. Within that income, he provided board and accommodation to several friends, relatives, other and us - the six brothers and sisters.  He did not find any necessity of owning a house or purchasing simple things like radio and phone.  He raised us frugally and left, when the Call came on 18^th Jan 1972, leaving behind nothing material.  It was a simple life, nothing remarkable in it.

We all his six children love him immensely.

And one of the reasons for our love for him is, his love for his father, Vithal Balkrishna Kulkarni. 

Of course, we never met his father, our grand-father.  But there was a big photo of his sketch (the real photograph was probably non-existent), framed and hung on a wall in the living room along with photos of deities like Dutta. Every Thursday, my father would place garlands on all these photos, including the one of his father, and offer Puja.  At the end of it, there was Arti.  My father had composed an Arti for his father which he lovingly recited on the occasion.  We children, along with our mother, would stand in the semi-circle and join the Puja. 

This routine was followed by him every week till his death. We still remember this Arti by heart.

I never came across a son doting father in such a way.  Putting father on a Pedestal, composing an Arti in his honour and treating him like a God was something unique.

I tried to ask him about it.  He would just brush the question aside.  I asked my mother.  She had no answer, either. 

What kind of a relationship was this?

I tried to look to the Grandfather. He looked little strict in the photo that hung on our walls. 😦

To the extent I knew, my father had a very short company of his father, not more than 20 years.  He was a clerk in the railways, with a large family to support.   My father and his elder brother were educated till matriculation only.  So it must have been a tough life.  

There is one possible reason.  My father had a younger brother, named Manik.  He was quite bright, but died at a very young age.  My grandfather must have grieved his death; probably, he showered a larger share of his care and love on my father because of this tragedy (as well as my father being now the youngest child).     

Other than this, nothing much is known.  This love between father and son must have been very emotional, in small things, which probably cannot be remembered or told in so many words.

But whatever, all Thursdays are etched in my mind as my father’s Father’s Day.

 

 

Sunday, 21^st June 2020