Sepia-toned memories

Going through some old photos of college years, one picture caught my attention — a jatha (group) of women reciting shabad kirtan on some occasion in a college. The lady in the middle was none other than my dadi (grandmother), whom we fondly called Biji. She had spent most of her life  on the Panjab University campus and had formed a group called the Istri Satsang Sabha. They recited shabad kirtan wherever the jatha was invited. These middle-aged and elderly women would pile their musical instruments onto a rickshaw and travel across Chandigarh to perform kirtan in homes, gurudwaras and institutions.

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Biji, who belonged to a village in Punjab, was married at around 16. My grandparents lived on the university’s campus. Biji loved gardening and plants, a passion which her children imbibed. Long before the Rose Garden installed the green toadstools, Biji had split an atta chakki into two, plastered together bricks and cement, installed the chakki on top and painted it green to adorn her garden.

This particular photo was over 50 years’ old. My father and aunts, pleasantly surprised, even remembered the details, including the colour of Biji’s suit and shawl. They also recognised the other women in the frame. I have always felt that Biji is here, in me, in my work, in my life. Knowing that my Biji had once treaded the corridors of the same college that I studied in has only inspired me more to follow in her footsteps.

Dr Harneet Kaur Sandhu, Chandigarh