On October 2, 1904, a son was born to Ramdulari Devi, a house wife of a lower middle class family when she was in Ram Nagar, a place near Benaras in U.P. This newborn grew up to become Lal Bahadur Shastri, one of the most respected and admired prime ministers of India.
The father of the newborn Sharda Prasad was a teacher in Kayastha School of Allahabad. He was a religious and god fearing man who believed in honest means. The teaching job brought a meagre salary which meant the family always lived with shortages. That is why the family never stayed together for any long period. Ramdulari mostly lived with the relatives of her side.
Things didn’t improve when Sharda Prasad left the teaching job after he landed a clerical situation in the Revenue Office at Allahabad. There was some scope of making extra money in that department but Sharda Prasad was too scrupulous a person to sully his hands with corruption money. Hence, he continued to remain hard up for money.
Sharda Prasad came to see his wife and the new born on the occasion of Makar Sankranti, a holy festival during which Hindus took dips in revered Ganga river. Currently Ramdulari was living at her father Hazari Lal’s home at Mogul Sarai. Hazarilal was a railway employee in the clerical capacity and lived in the Railway Colony.
Childhood
By now the newborn was three months old and had been christened Lal Bahadur. The mother preferred to call her son ‘Nanhe’ literally meaning ‘Little one’ because the child was tiny like a toy. Sharada Prasad was also amazed at his son, a cute little toy. Nanhe was his first male child. The couple had two daughters born earlier unsung. The female children born in Indian families bring little joy to the family. The birth of male children is always celebrated. But the girl child is merely incidental, a setback in the quest for a son.
Entire family geared up to seek the blessings from holy Ganga for the bright future of the child and to thank God for his kindness. They set out in a group with great excitement.
A great crowd was gathering on the river bank. Everyone appeared to be headed towards Ganga. The crowd was thicker nearer the bank. A lot of jostling and pushing was taking place.
The members of the family groups were getting torn apart in the surging crowd. It was becoming increasingly difficult for families to stay together.
Hazarilal, Ramdulari and Sharda Prasad were also getting wedged apart.
Ramdulari was holding Nanhe in her arms as the crowd carried her forward. There was a sudden jostling and Nanhe got spilled off the armshold of his mother.
Ramdulari screamed in alarm, “My child! My child!!”
The crowd tossed her around as she lost sight of her child.
She began to wail helplessly. Hazari Lal heard her cry and saw her some distance away embedded in the crowed. It was not easy to reach her. Hazari Lal and Sharda Prasad somehow tunneled through the crowd to reach wailing Ramdulari and learnt about her tragedy.
Both the men were shocked.
All three looked around frantically in the crowd. There was no sign of little Nanhe. The possibility of the little one falling to ground and getting trampled upon by thousands of moving feet frightened them To their great relief there was no trace of blood on the ground in the area around.
But Nanhe had gone missing.
Ramdulari was inconsolable. Sharda Prasad was stunned at the loss.
While the male members kept up their efforts to locate the missing child in the areas around Ramdulari relentlessly prayed to gods for the safety of the little one and his recovery. She begged to Mother Ganga in particular.
What had happened to Nanhe?
A strange coincidence had taken place. When the little one had got spilled off her mother’s arms he landed in the basket of a cowherd who was travelling next to Ramdulari.
The cowherd as expected was a man of blind faith. He was childless. When he saw a child miraculously drop in his basket he jumped at the conclusion that Mother Ganga had blessed him with the child being pleased with his devotion to her.
He was overwhelmed and prayed thanks to the goddess for her kindness.
It was the 15th January, 1905, a cold wintry day of North India. The cowherd put his shoulder towel on the child to protect it from the cold.
The baby was crying for his mother. To silence the baby he fed some milk to it from the can he was carrying. The baby continued to bawl. The cowherd wanted to get away from that spot for his own safety lest someone should take him for a baby thief.
A ferry boat was starting for the other bank. The cowherd quickly boarded the boat as it was rowed off.
After travelling to some distance the boatman had a fresh thinking. He guessed that a few more passengers could make his trip more profitable. After all such crowded days come only a few times in a year.
So, he rowed back to the bank to the dismay of the cowherd with the foundling.
By a strange coincidence the father of the child Sharda Prasad happened to be right near the spot where the boat anchored. He was scanning the scene for his lost son in desperation. The bawling baby drew his attention to the cowherd’s basket. He craned his neck to take a look at the baby in the basket of the cowherd. The bay looked like his Nanhe.
He stared hard.
When convinced about the identity of the baby as his own Nanhe he jumped into the boat and picked him up out of the basket announcing, “It is our Nanhe!”
Cowherd objected, “What are you doing? He is my child.”
“Lying thief! It is my Nanhe,” Sharda Prasad screamed.
The cowherd screamed back and tried to reclaim the baby. A tug of war and screaming contest followed. Ramdulari and Hazarilal had joined the quarrel.
A policeman was watching the scene. He intervened. The contesting parties told him their respective cases of the claim on the baby. The officer thought for a while and asked Ramdulari to identify carefully if the child was her son, so called Nanhe.
The mother took her son in the arms and hugged him with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. The child clung to his mother and stopped crying as it began to suckle instinctively. This convinced the officer that the child was indeed in the arms of its natural mother.
The police officer looked hard at the cowherd who had by now realised that his game was up. He looked frightened and sheepish. The police officer barked at him and demanded an explanation. In a stammering voice the cowherd owned his mischief and begged for forgiveness.
The parents of the child did not press criminal charges against him.
A little emboldened he asked the parents of the child for some reward for safely bringing back their son. The police officer was a bit amused.
But the parents were too glad to dwell upon his suspicious act. They willingly gave him whatever money they had on them besides the woolen shawl Sharada Prasad was wearing saying, “Have it! We are grateful to you for returning our Nanhe to us. May God bless you too with a son.”
Ramdulari prayed to Mother Ganga for getting her darling Nanhe back to her. She promised that she would send her son with his wife when he gets married to pay obeisance to the holy Mother.
She kept up her sacred promise when her Nanhe got married twenty three years later. Nanhe alias Lal Bahadur knew about his mother’s pledge. He himself visited Ganga with his wife Lalita.
Sharda Prasad Shastri returned to his post of duty Allahabad. Ramdulari stayed back with her father, Hazarilal with her son Nanhe.
Hazarilal doted on his daughter Ramdulari. The old man was particularly fond of tiny Nanhe, his daughter had given birth to. Hazarilal was a member of a large joint family. He was the eldest member. There were brothers and their wives, children, sisters and their offspring. Their house was a crowded place like a small railway station. Nanhe was just one of the children, the youngest of them all and the tiniest of all. So, Hazarilal and Ramdulari took special care of the little one to see to it that he was not discriminated by others.
Nanhe was fated to live in the household of his maternal grandpas.
When he was just too years old an epidemic broke out in Allahabad where his father was stationed on duty. The epidemic claimed his father, Sharda Prasad Shastri.
Little Nanhe had become an orphan and his mother a widow.
The death of the husband was the biggest tragedy of Ramdulari’s life. The grief stunned her. For weeks she remained in a delirious frame of mind. Her father and uncles tried to console her. Widowhood was the gravest calamity to befall on Indian woman of orthodox traditions. The only saving grace was that she had an extremely caring and loving father who would do anything to see her regain her normal self. Normally the widows were abandoned by the families as an unwelcome burden, a bad omen to have around.
But the death of son-in-law hurt Hazarilal deeply. The tragedy of his daughter was something irreparable. This grief made him sick and affected his health fatally. A chronic illness that had been troubling him all his life showed up strongly. The grief has made him prone to diseases. He passed away just a couple of years after the death of his son-in-law.
It was a great loss for Ramdulari.
Even little Nanhe could feel the absence of the man who never let him feel the absence of his father. Every evening when Hazarilal returned home from duty he used to pick up Nanhe and ask what the little one had been doing all day long. He would listen to Nanhe’s prattle with all seriousness. The rest of the evening the little one used to remain snuggled into the lap of his maternal grandpa as cozy as a chick in the nest. He would be transferred to his little bed when Ramdulari would realise that her Nanhe was fast asleep and wandering in the dream land.
In those warmed up moments Ramdulari would wonder what she would do without the loving care of her father. She was now facing that dreadful situation really.
Hazarilal’s death was a shock for the rest of the family members also. His presence had been keeping the flock together and was family’s financial security.
With him the security was gone.
Now Nanhe had grown up to the age when he must go to school for education. And education would cost some money.
Banwari Lal the younger brother of the late Hazarilal bravely took over the responsibility of becoming the provider of the family. He told his sister Ramdulari and little Nanhe not to worry about anything. They will find nothing amiss under his charge, he had promised.
It came as a great relief to Ramdulari. She knew and had seen that Banwari Lal was no less loving to her and her child than Hazarilal.
Although younger brother of Sharda Prasad had also come to take charge of Ramdulari and Nanhe yet she preferred to stay with her brother. She had a feeling that her brother-in-law had come merely to complete a social formality for the benefit of the relatives and the society. There was little sincerity in it. He did put up a show of picking up Nanhe and fondling him. All could see that there was no warmth in his act. Even little Nanhe looked uncomfortable in the arms of his uncle who was more like a stranger.
He felt happy when his mother decided in favour of staying with her brother. For Nanhe grand parents house was his real home where he was well set.
Nanhe got admitted to the local primary school. Ramdulari always felt guilty for putting her burden on her brothers shoulders who had their own families as well.
To reduce the financial burden of her brother Ramdulari stopped making any demands other than absolutely necessary. She slaved in the house doing all kinds of domestic chores from dawn to midnight to justify her stay. The other members of the family including woman folk could see how valuable she was for the household. No one ever objected to her presence in that household.
All the kids in the family were young. Nanhe was the youngest. The nearest kid agewise was Purshottam who was four years senior. In relation he was maternal uncle to Nanhe. They were brought up together and had become close pals. Their friendship never suffered any cracks and it lasted all through their lives.
One day curious Nanhe asked his mother, ‘‘Ma, why did you decide to give me the name Lal Bahadur?”
Ramdulari smiled and revealed, “My Nanhe! You are small like a gem. I hope you will prove yourself to be a Lal (gem). The people think that small means unbrave. You will show that you are Bahadur (Brave) inspite of being small. That is why I named you Lal Bahadur.”
Little boy nodded his head in understanding.
Despite being small and fragile Lal Bahadur was keen in sports and he took part in them and refused to be a push over. He had little pocket money and could not afford to play hockey or football which required playing gears. He and his pal Purshottam could only watch the proper games of football and hockey played by the boys of well-to-do families.
Lal Bahadur used his imagination and created his own playthings. With rags, dried up flowers and leaves stuffed into a piece of old cloth and sewn up in ball shape became their football. Lal Bahadur and his friends played with it with all gusto and excitements of a big game players. Heated arguments and screaming added pep to their play.
When the contents of the ball became a soft mass the ball was resewn after compacting it. The smaller ball now served as a hockey ball and for hockey sticks the branches torn away from the trees worked fine. A side by the dirt track used to be their play ground.
With his endearing pranks and sweet nature Lal Bahadur won the hearts of the family members. After the death of Hazari Lal other family members had become more kind and considerate towards Lal Bahadur alias Nanhe.
He never felt an orphan.
