This photo was taken on what was really my first trip - it doesn't count, cos i don't remember it. I am the cute one sitting on my uncle's lap. The photo was taken under the great big mango tree (its still there) that sits between the house and the family temple. Seated from your left to right areUsha Jiji, Dhruv bhai, Uttam Bhai, Mira jiji, Mayank bhai, Kirit bhai, Pop bhai in back, and Gautam bhai is the serious kid in front.
Seated grownups and infants are - Tauji (my dad's older brother), me on his lap, my grandmother (who rode the ghoda gadi to the market), Munnu on her lap, Pappi (standing), and my Grandfather the lawyer.
Standing grownups - Krishna kaka (aka the Maharaja of Kadugarh), his wife Khusman Kaki (aka the Maharani of Kadugarh), my mom, Taiji, Cho-Cho bua, my dad (also the one who took this picture), Devi Kaki - she is carrying Guddi in her arms though you can barely see her) and Vinu Kaka.
Kadu-garh - n. Land of Kadu. Great you say - but what is Kadu ? In shudh (pure) Hindi - it means pumpkin. In our family it refers to "Nothing" or as one might say in American - "bupkus".
One of these days, I must ask my dad which of my theories about why he and his brothers chose to affectionately refer to the ancestral estate as Kadugarh, instead of the more respectable Judges Farm that my grandfather had named it.
The only thing I know for certain is that you just have to say Kadugarh to any of my paternal cousins to see their face light up with a smile - for this is where we spent several happy summer holidays hanging out, learning new stuff, growing up.
Kadugarh - Judges Farm - what's in a name you say ? Judges Farm was when my grandparents ruled the place. It was about being proper and following the rules. In the years that the crop was good, the family feasted. An army of tradespeople sat on the veranda - tailors sewing clothes for the entire family, mattress and quilt makers helping get ready for the arduous winter ahead, a jeweller putting things together for the next family wedding and so on. When it wasn't so good - things were scaled back dramatically.
My grandfather, a practicing lawyer in the Agra High Court, moved there some time in the 30s following an accident in the family . The first house was the best the family could afford to put up. My aunts tell us off how the roof would cave in in a thunderstorm, about how they feared for their lives because of the wild animals that roamed around in the nearby jungles - about missing their lives in Agra.
But I digress - this ancestral home is in a town called Haldwani, which is also known as the entry point into the Kumaon region. Today, this has become a Tier 3 town with lots of factories making their home there, hardly recognizable as the area in which Jim Corbett hunted the man-eating tigers and cheetahs.
I remember my very first visit to Judges Farm - I was eight years old.
It took 2 nights and 2 days to get there by train. We boarded the Frontier Mail at Bombay Central, spread out our bedding and while my parents slept on the upper bunks, my brothers and I pressed our noses to the window to catch the sights and foods of every station we passed - Dahanu Road, Surat, Vadodara, Godhra, Ratlam, Kota, Bharatpur and finally Mathura. There we repaired to the Waiting Room - showered changed and went for a ride into town - gingerly avoiding the Mathura pandas (touts - holy revered touts) .
We returned to the station and the porter guided us to 3 carriages that were sitting apparently abandoned. We settled into one of them, and exhausted with all the excitement I fell asleep. I awoke as I felt a strong jolt. My brothers informed me that the Kathgodam Express had arrived, and our carriage had just been shunted to it. Next morning we travelled on a narrow guage track - passing fields and streams like I had never seen before. I remember Lal Kuan station and the incredible tea served in earthen pots and the best samosas I have ever eaten in my whole life. At Lal Kuan they attached a second engine to the back of the train - this one pushed the train forward, while the one in front valiantly pulled.
Finally at noon and some 40 hours after we had left home we arrive at Haldwani station where a whole lot of people and a converted van await us. The conversion is that the cover in the back has been removed - so you ride with the fresh air and sunshine (heat) in your face.
We arrive at the farm and surprise number 1 - No plumbing or running water and the toilets are away from the house. They do have doors. It takes a good scrubbing to rid ourselves of the grime from the engine (coal engine) and then there are all these cousins to be met. Pappi, Guddi, Munnu, Raju, Mamta, Babu..... and more are on the way. We walk out into the field a long ways - its bhindi (okra) season. We see a little pond in which the farm cattle are cooling themselves off. We return by the stables - where my grandmother's horse and ghoda gadi (horse cart) are parked. My grandma likes to drive herself to the market every once in a while. And while there are lots of daughters-in-law and servants, she likes to visit the horse atleast once each day. Totally alien stuff to this city slicker - but very cool.
It starts to turn dark - and my aunts walk around lighting the lamps - surprise number 2 - no electricity. I also get to see surprise number 3 - they are cooking on stoves fueled by sawdust. Oooh the smoke is getting into my eyes. Next morning its Surprise #4 - the men and the boys all bathe around the water tank - its a cement structure that my grandfather had constructed - its filled with water from the nearby streams and canals - this is the only source of water on the farm. For the women - the water is fetched in buckets and taken to the bathrooms attached to the house.
At night we sleep on the terrace, under the stars. All of us boys and girls on mattresses laid out on mats and covered with a white sheet. We tell stories. My aunts talk about encountering a tiger late one night as they were all returning home in the family car, and how it ran away when my uncle flicked on the head lights. We hear the dogs - or is it jackals - howl in the forest. I lie awake - afraid of the wild animals for a while, then fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. I awake to hear the low buzzing sound - mosquito attack. And I learn to plaster myself with Odomos each night.
Its great sitting to lunch with my brothers and cousins - its now about 12 of us sitting on the floor eating out of our steel thalis telling stories, making plans, squabbling...... and soon the days turn into weeks. We climb trees, we disturb ant hills, we play cards, we tell stories, i learn to speak some hindi and before we all know it......summer is over and we're back in the converted van heading to the railway station to start the 40 hour journey back.
Such was Judges Farm............. a magnificent memory - one that dreams are made of... Now Kadugarh will be another blog.
One of these days, I must ask my dad which of my theories about why he and his brothers chose to affectionately refer to the ancestral estate as Kadugarh, instead of the more respectable Judges Farm that my grandfather had named it.
The only thing I know for certain is that you just have to say Kadugarh to any of my paternal cousins to see their face light up with a smile - for this is where we spent several happy summer holidays hanging out, learning new stuff, growing up.
Kadugarh - Judges Farm - what's in a name you say ? Judges Farm was when my grandparents ruled the place. It was about being proper and following the rules. In the years that the crop was good, the family feasted. An army of tradespeople sat on the veranda - tailors sewing clothes for the entire family, mattress and quilt makers helping get ready for the arduous winter ahead, a jeweller putting things together for the next family wedding and so on. When it wasn't so good - things were scaled back dramatically.
My grandfather, a practicing lawyer in the Agra High Court, moved there some time in the 30s following an accident in the family . The first house was the best the family could afford to put up. My aunts tell us off how the roof would cave in in a thunderstorm, about how they feared for their lives because of the wild animals that roamed around in the nearby jungles - about missing their lives in Agra.
But I digress - this ancestral home is in a town called Haldwani, which is also known as the entry point into the Kumaon region. Today, this has become a Tier 3 town with lots of factories making their home there, hardly recognizable as the area in which Jim Corbett hunted the man-eating tigers and cheetahs.
I remember my very first visit to Judges Farm - I was eight years old.
It took 2 nights and 2 days to get there by train. We boarded the Frontier Mail at Bombay Central, spread out our bedding and while my parents slept on the upper bunks, my brothers and I pressed our noses to the window to catch the sights and foods of every station we passed - Dahanu Road, Surat, Vadodara, Godhra, Ratlam, Kota, Bharatpur and finally Mathura. There we repaired to the Waiting Room - showered changed and went for a ride into town - gingerly avoiding the Mathura pandas (touts - holy revered touts) .
We returned to the station and the porter guided us to 3 carriages that were sitting apparently abandoned. We settled into one of them, and exhausted with all the excitement I fell asleep. I awoke as I felt a strong jolt. My brothers informed me that the Kathgodam Express had arrived, and our carriage had just been shunted to it. Next morning we travelled on a narrow guage track - passing fields and streams like I had never seen before. I remember Lal Kuan station and the incredible tea served in earthen pots and the best samosas I have ever eaten in my whole life. At Lal Kuan they attached a second engine to the back of the train - this one pushed the train forward, while the one in front valiantly pulled.
Finally at noon and some 40 hours after we had left home we arrive at Haldwani station where a whole lot of people and a converted van await us. The conversion is that the cover in the back has been removed - so you ride with the fresh air and sunshine (heat) in your face.
We arrive at the farm and surprise number 1 - No plumbing or running water and the toilets are away from the house. They do have doors. It takes a good scrubbing to rid ourselves of the grime from the engine (coal engine) and then there are all these cousins to be met. Pappi, Guddi, Munnu, Raju, Mamta, Babu..... and more are on the way. We walk out into the field a long ways - its bhindi (okra) season. We see a little pond in which the farm cattle are cooling themselves off. We return by the stables - where my grandmother's horse and ghoda gadi (horse cart) are parked. My grandma likes to drive herself to the market every once in a while. And while there are lots of daughters-in-law and servants, she likes to visit the horse atleast once each day. Totally alien stuff to this city slicker - but very cool.
It starts to turn dark - and my aunts walk around lighting the lamps - surprise number 2 - no electricity. I also get to see surprise number 3 - they are cooking on stoves fueled by sawdust. Oooh the smoke is getting into my eyes. Next morning its Surprise #4 - the men and the boys all bathe around the water tank - its a cement structure that my grandfather had constructed - its filled with water from the nearby streams and canals - this is the only source of water on the farm. For the women - the water is fetched in buckets and taken to the bathrooms attached to the house.
At night we sleep on the terrace, under the stars. All of us boys and girls on mattresses laid out on mats and covered with a white sheet. We tell stories. My aunts talk about encountering a tiger late one night as they were all returning home in the family car, and how it ran away when my uncle flicked on the head lights. We hear the dogs - or is it jackals - howl in the forest. I lie awake - afraid of the wild animals for a while, then fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. I awake to hear the low buzzing sound - mosquito attack. And I learn to plaster myself with Odomos each night.
Its great sitting to lunch with my brothers and cousins - its now about 12 of us sitting on the floor eating out of our steel thalis telling stories, making plans, squabbling...... and soon the days turn into weeks. We climb trees, we disturb ant hills, we play cards, we tell stories, i learn to speak some hindi and before we all know it......summer is over and we're back in the converted van heading to the railway station to start the 40 hour journey back.
Such was Judges Farm............. a magnificent memory - one that dreams are made of... Now Kadugarh will be another blog.
This is amazing ! You know what i sent this article to a couple of my friends who always wonder how haldwani was and they have all enjoyed reading it. Its unbelivable that you still remember the details so clearly after so many years
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