A touching story contributed by Shalni Wadhwani (nee Jyoti Kirpalani, from the Satha-ghari Kirpalani family to whom Dada Lekhraj was closely connected), telling of life in Sindh before Partition and the early days of the Brahma Kumari movement
Dada Ratanchand was one of the wealthiest and most socially prominent gentlemen of Hyderabad, Sindh in the 1940s. A simple and straightforward person with a flourishing textile business in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), he loved every aspect of life. Tall and stately and distinguished looking, he wore a top hat, was a member of English clubs, and enjoyed cigars. Like many other Sindhis of those days, he felt his meal was incomplete unless it included meat.
He and his wife Sita Mata had 7 daughters and 2 sons.
Dada Ratanchand’s brother had 2 daughters but no sons. Dada Ratanchand gave one of his sons to his brother in adoption, or as they described this act of tremendous generosity between families at the time, Sita Mata shared her womb with her derani (her husband’s brother’s wife). So there were eleven children in the house, and the eldest was Rukmini. She became known as Dadi Ruki.
Ruki was given in marriage to a dear friend of Dada Ratanchand when she was still a child, a tradition of the time which bound families together by marriage. The agreement was that the children would remain in their parental homes until they attained adulthood. Sadly, however, the young groom contracted very high fever one day and he died, leaving Ruki a child widow.
Not only was the death a trauma to the family, but a child widow was considered terribly inauspicious, and this made things even worse for them. A few years later, Sati Mata was keen for her to remarry. However, widow remarriage was against Hindu traditions. Undeterred, Dada Ratanchand called for a Panchayat meeting and put forth his case. Both sides of the matter were argued with intensity. Finally, Dada Ratanchand stood up and said, “If it was my daughter who had died, would you have agreed for the boy to marry again?” To which all, without exception, replied, “Of course!” When Dada Ratanchand explained that it was nonsense to have different rules for boys and girls, people reluctantly agreed to the second marriage.
Once again the groom was from a prominent family with a well-known surname and a huge celebration was held, with much feasting and dancing in the traditional manner. At the end of the ceremonies, the groom was riding home with the wedding procession escorting him on foot when he fell off the horse. And he died on the spot.
People came to condole Sita Mata, weeping along with her and Ruki – twice widowed but still just a teenager – could hear them feel sorry for her mother for being burdened with such a very inauspicious daughter. She declared that she was now going to live happily ever after on her own.
Dada Ratanchand and Sita Mata had named their second daughter Lakshmi and the third Parpati. 3 daughters! A kind well-wisher of Hyderabad commented to Dada Ratanchand and Sita Mata that if they continued giving their children the names of goddesses, they would continue having daughters only. Subdued by the thought, Dada Ratanchand promptly began calling the little one Bumma, and she would be known to most by that name.
Bumma was given in marriage into the family of the Satha-ghari Kirpalanis – a good match socially as well as because, while Dada Ratachand had 7 daughters, the Kirpalanis were 7 sons.
Next came Khi. She had a good marriage. But of her 3 daughters, one contracted polio – this was decades before the polio vaccine – and was crippled. Poor Sita! Why were her darling daughters being dogged by tragedy? It was just too much for her to bear, in addition to which the cruel whispers in the community felt like torture. Lakshmi, meanwhile, had her own misfortune. She had a son and a daughter but her son had weak eyes. He needed hearing aid to hear properly, and quite naturally, had a speech defect too.
Next came Tikkan, the fifth daughter. Her groom was a Sindhworki boy who lived and did business in Indonesia, and what no one knew was that he was in love with an Indonesian girl. She had tried to stop him from leaving to go back to Hyderabad, but he explained that he had to go, his musafiri was complete, his parents wanted him home. And he promised that he would be back soon and would marry her and no one else. She agreed to let him go, placing a ring on his finger and warning him that if he were to ever go near another woman, there would be terrible consequences.
Back in Hyderabad, in a completely different milieu to the one he had left behind, the young man found himself unable to withstand his parents’ demands. They had found a girl for him from one of the best Hyderabad families. So he married the young woman who would one day in the future be known as Dadi Hirday Pushpa.
The newlyweds retired for the night and as the groom approached his bride, suddenly his physique changed completely. The hands and the feet twisted, his face changed colour and his whole appearance was transformed. His hands and feet twisted and turned inward. And then he began to vomit – and to run to the toilet with diarrhoea. This was clearly black magic!
In later years, Dadi Hirday Pushpa would reminisce, “I really don’t know what I owed him from previous lives. I had agreed to marry him and for the few days we were married, all I did was collect his vomit and clean his toilet.” Very soon, the boy died.
For Sita Mata, the worst was yet to come. Her son was a beautiful and greatly loved child, adored and pampered by his 7 sisters who quarrelled over wanting to do things for him. He was an extremely good-natured person and a skilled artist who specialised in painting Shri Krishna. When he turned 21, he got jaundice. And he died.
Now Sita went mad with grief. The other sorrows were terrible enough but this pushed her over the limit. “God, what have you done to me?” She had given her younger son in adoption and could never get him back. She stopped bathing, eating. And she took to the lal paro – the red skirt printed with black circles which was the garb of widows in Hyderabad. And she would beat her head on the wall, weeping loudly. It was all just too much for her.
This was the time that Motal, the sixth daughter, and 14 at the time – who would later be known as Dadi Chandramani – began attending the Om Mandli satsang of Dada Lekhraj every day along with her friends.
One day after satsang, Motal approached Baba and explained to him how grief had driven her mother to the edge of insanity. And Baba told Motal to bring her mother to see him. When Motal protested that her mother could never be coaxed to step out of the house, he advised her to bundle her into the Victoria after dark, protected from the rude stares of prying eyes.
Baba and Dada Ratanchand were not closely acquainted but they did have a nodding acquaintance and would say “Ram-Ram Saeen!” when they passed each other, and Baba did know that Dada Ratanchand’s family had a Victoria – which was what the horse carriages of the time were called.
So that night after dinner, Motal wrapped her mother in a wide chadar with just one eye left uncovered – the akhri – sat her in the carriage and took her to Baba.
Sita wept and poured out her grief and Baba beamed his loving gaze on her. He told her, “Don’t be sad. Take Shri Krishna as your son. Put him in your lap. Play with him. He is yours.” Sita fell into a trance. And in that trance, she took Shri Krishna in her lap and truly felt that he was her son.
And this is how Sita came into the fold of Brahma Baba. Seeing the change in her, Dada Ratanchand also visited Baba and felt the power of his gaze – all he could see was Satyug, Satyug …
Dada Ratanchand was so devoted to Baba and his preachings that he gradually sold all his belongings. When Sita Mata saw the silverware that filled the wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling cupboards beginning to diminish she wanted to know what was going on. He explained to her that he was giving away everything and surrendering to the wealth of Shri Krishna.
These funds were put to use to set up a boarding school called Om Mandli. No fees were taken. It was a boon for many families of Sindh which had large numbers of children and it was so difficult to care for all. It was especially difficult for families with many daughters, as girls needed constant protection. So many women sent their daughters to Om Mandli, where they would be well looked after.
Later, when they all left Sindh after Partition, 450 members were transported to Mount Abu where they had to start all over again. Things were very difficult for Baba as funds were limited. But he had faith in Shiv Baba, the one who does things and gets things done. He knew that God is in charge, and it is with this faith that the organization grew and continued to grow.
Shalini
Dada Ratanchand’s whole family surrendered. And Dada Lekhraj would visit them, inquiring solicitously how they were, always wanting to take care of them.
Shalini’s mother, Chandra, grew up in the Kirpalani household in Hyderabad, but spent a great deal of time with her mother’s parents too. Sita Mata and Bumma both knew how much difference Chandra’s presence made to Ruki. The child had been widowed twice and shunned by conservative society. When Chandra was with her, she felt happy and contented.
Shalini grew up in Calcutta, in a home full of bhakti. The family were followers of Shri Krishna. At 14, starry-eyed with Enid Blyton stories of boarding schools, she convinced her parents that she wanted to study in one too, and they chose one in Mount Abu. Dadi Pushpa explained to her that she was going to meet Shri Krishna himself! Dadi Tikkan accompanied Jyoti to Mount Abu, and Sita Mata and Chandra were both delighted that her granddaughter would be close to Baba.
One year later, Baba held a beautiful celebration for Shalini’s fifteenth birthday. It was season time and about 300 students – a very large number for those days – had come to the centre from all over India. Baba held a picnic for her birthday and everybody had a wonderful time. Very sadly, Mama left her body the very next day, June 24, 1965. She had been very ill for some time. And yet, Baba celebrated Jyoti’s birthday, never letting this child or the other devotees feel his pain and sorrow.
Sindh: Stories from a Vanished Homeland 