The Bangle Box

There was a wooden dwarf almirah in Shantaben's bedroom. A handwoven throw, usually blue or burgundy was placed on its top, with a smaller box, and another crochet mat on the box. This two-level counter served as her mandir. A beautiful sculpture of Shiv-Parvati made of black stone was placed on the raised area. Several other photographs and idols made of brass and copper, arranged there, were attended to twice a day with incense and praying beads. For years, I had no clue that the raised level was actually a box. That too a bangle box! 

One day, I just happened to visit Ba in the afternoon, not usual on school days, and found her dusting and cleaning the almirah top. She had brought down all the idols, sculptures and photographs on a tray scrubbing each of them from every corner and crevice. The throw and mat were kept aside for washing. The box lay uncovered for me for the very first time. Of course I had to see what was inside. I took it down imagining that it contained older, yellowed or damaged pictures of gods and goddesses. I opened the box; my eyes had never shone brighter and I never grinned broader. Inside the rather rustic looking heavy bangle box, were three rows of dreamy clinks and tinkles.

Shantaben had a fascinating collection of bangles - glass, lac, ceramic, metal - she had them all. Beautiful colours, glossy textures, delicate etches - the collection was already decades old when I discovered them. I had always seen her wearing gold bangles, so this box was quite a revelation. She told me she colour coordinated bangles with her wardrobe before she got married, but later as household chores increased, the breakable ones became difficult to manage. So in fear of losing the beauties, she stored them away in this wooden bangle box. She placed the box in a place where no one would touch it, specially not her rowdy grandchildren. 

Ba knew I had a severe crush on jewelry, and she must have melted seeing my eyes glisten more for her bangles than they did for her matar kachoris; she gifted me a pair of electric blue glass bangles from the box. My happiness knew no bounds and kept wearing them at every given chance, even with my dresses and skirts! Over the years, she brought out a few every time her mandir was dusted and gave them all to me. She also bought new sets from her Ahmedabad visits. I am sure she was proud of that fact that her grand daughter shared the same love for bangles as she did; and she indulged me to no end. Then came the day when she handed over the bangle box to me, with all the remaining contents. Like I said in the last post, Shantaben was thrifty even with her words; all she said was - ''tu raakh'' (you keep it). With those two words, I inherited over fifty years of romance in one mahogany box. 

Shantaben's bangles were so used to the sheltered life that they could not withstand the cruel world of concrete. A few ceramic ones still remain in my mother's drawer, but the rest only in my mind. The bangle box owns a proud corner of my living room, as a beautiful stand for a lamp. 

Kabaat-vaaro Room

When not in Calcutta, Ba usually divided her time between her bungalow in Ahmedabad and her sister Shardaben's apartment in Bombay. The former was more of a holiday home, she never really lived there. These three spaces in Calcutta, Bombay and Ahmedabad are where most my memories with Ba were made. Shardaben's apartment was a wonderland; but more on that in another post.

All these three homes had room specially for the cupboards, or kabaat, as we say in Gujarati. Ergo, kabaat-vaaro room!

The Calcutta apartment wasn't a big one and hence a couple of kabaats spilled over to the bedroom as well. And these were the solid steel almirahs that Godrej once made. One or two were pretty fancy with a single door! 

Every kabaat came with its unique 'lock-unlock' sound and hinge screeches. Over the years I knew exactly which kabaat was being opened, locked or sometimes even banged from two rooms away. Some kabaats were used on a regular basis, some once in a few months and one or two were used only annually or even once in two years. The latter almost always had a heavy piece of furniture parked in front while it turned into a steely brown backdrop of the room. 

And now over to the contents. Let's say that the half a dozen cupboards had enough stuff to fill up three seasons of the home section of a departmental store and a swag lifestyle store put together! Not to forget the ''Miscellaneous'', this section could fill up the utility and toiletry  pouches of a hundred hotel rooms. And all this is after all the clothes of the family are kept aside! From metres of cotton and silk to dinner napkins. From thaalis fit for a king's meal to dessert spoons. From vintage iron boxes full of old photographs to tiny plastic containers bought in dozens. From hand painted ceramic crockery, wrapped in newspaper to copper lotaas. From decades old files full of old letters and some bills to unused picture diaries. From hand-dyed handloom and khadi home linen to plastic sheet covers. From measuring tapes to paper clips. Not to forget the spools of colourful threads, needle sets, buttons and thimbles. She also had a box of ribbons and strings along with cut pieces of cloth. 

Whenever we needed something out of the blue for school and we remembered about it only after the stationery stores were closed, Ba's treasure never let us down! One square foot of red cloth, aluminum foil, two metres black ribbon, large envelopes; no matter what, she had them all there, somewhere! 

Ba had her world stored safely in the Godrej almirahs. She spoke little. But when she opened a cupboard in front of you, it meant that she gave you a tiny peek into her world. And every time she did so in front of me, meant I would get richer by a Staedtler pencil or a vintage postcard or an embroidered napkin or just a few coloured buttons. And all this went into my own kabaat. 

Mahadevia to Mehta

This blog is dedicated to my grandmother, Shantaben Mehta (1914-2002), and the world she shared with me. I begin by posting a studio photograph of her taken in the early 1930s, when she was Shanta Mahadevia. Ms. Mahadevia was the third child among seven siblings, growing up in Ahmedabad. She was popular in her social circles for her inborn talent in cooking, sketching, pleasant demeanour and big black eyes with long and curved lashes. She was also known to be a fitness freak of sorts and used her younger brothers as weights! I remember how impossible it was to free my wrist from her grip!

She married Kantilal Balabhai Mehta at the age of 21. They had three children, a son and two daughters. Mr. Mehta’s job at Scindhia Shipping Company brought him to Calcutta in 1956. Eventually the whole family moved into a flat in South Calcutta. They were among the first generation of Gujaratis who migrated and settled in Calcutta.

The Gujaratis who settle elsewhere are a very close knit community and hence Shantaben got easily included into the social circles of the new city. She continued her various hobbies, she looked after her family and had quite a busy social life. The family soon fell in love with Bengal’s handloom, Uttam-Suchitra films and the Durga Puja. Her younger daughter, Sukriti, went a step further and married their Bengali neighbour, Asim Ghosh – my parents. Shantaben Mehta, my Ba.

Ba has a constant influence on me even though it has been thirteen years since she passed away. She lives through her sarees that I still wear; the name engraved everyday steel bartans and some antique furniture pieces that we still use; her unique recipes we swear by; and her beaded jewellery that can give any boutique a run for their money. As I grew older I have realised how significant was Ba’s feminine energy and aesthetics in my life. A large chunk of my childhood and teens were spent with her, at her home, the bazaars, fairs, temples and her friends.

Her family was nuclear but Shantaben always bought everything in bulk; spices, utensils, towels, sheets; everything was in dozens or kilos. I remember her pantry stocked with masalas in large glass jars, the lower shelves of her steel almirahs stocked with new bed linen, cushion covers, cotton and tussore thaans, napkins, saree borders, cutlery, and various everyday things like clips, mats, buttons, khaddar jhadans, muslin cloth pieces and what not. Storing all this in a not so big an apartment, made all her rooms look like little wonderlands. I would spend hours just going through all her stuff. It was all visually extremely stimulating and very larger than life.

There were three distinct aspects of her Shantaben’s life – her kitchen, her style in both fashion and home decor, and her spirituality. Each very special in its own way and each has had a lasting impact on me. I intend to share little pieces of her life through this blog.