Amma's Daughters: A Memoir by Meenal Shrivastava

Author:Meenal Shrivastava [Shrivastava, Meenal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, India & South Asia, Asia, History, Political
ISBN: 9781771991957
Google: 5kVmDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 43369749
Publisher: Athabasca University Press
Published: 2018-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

Shafiji had planted a sickly looking jasmine plant right in the middle of the courtyard on the ground floor. At the time, the compositors laughed at the idea that this plant might survive the competition from the lush little shrubs around it to grow into a respectable bush. Still, Shafiji ignored all skepticism and dangled a rope from a nail on the outer wall of the library on the terrace, two floors above.

This arrangement looked ridiculously ambitious until the jasmine took the hint and started climbing the rope. Its top was beyond the first floor by the end of its first year. In its second year, Shafiji fashioned a network of metal wires between the east and west terraces that then supported the horizontal growth of this bush-turned-tree. We were all incredulous at the birds, butterflies, and other visitors that this green canopy brought into our courtyard, even in the middle of Jaipur’s sandstone jungle. Surrounded by walls and balconies, the jasmine made a beautiful contribution to the green tapestry that filled our home, enhancing the shrubs in the courtyard and the innumerable potted plants of champa, chameli, clematis, marigolds, roses, basil, coriander, curry leaves, lemongrass, and mint that filled every space in the house ever touched by sunlight.

Shafiji was also a rescuer of note, bringing sundry little creatures to us for care and nursing—an injured baby squirrel that had fallen from a tree, birds that had been entangled in razor-sharp threads during the kite-flying season, baby rabbits whose parents had been claimed by an animal or someone’s dinner pot. Babu and Amma never refused to accept any of these creatures, deputizing Didi and me to help with the nursing. The aim was always to release them into the vast green spaces of Ram Niwas Garden once they were strong enough, but the ones who took too long to heal often ended up living with us on a permanent basis. By this point we had a large cage in the veranda for a parrot that refused to fly away, a couple of rabbits with no survival skills, and a few visiting cats, from whom we had to protect the smaller creatures.

Babu’s experiment with a subscription-only newspaper, Praja Sandesh, “message of the people,” had taken off reasonably well. It generated continuous work, at any rate, though revenue was unreliable. Fortunately, because many of Amma and Babu’s former colleagues were involved with Hindi literary and educational institutions in Rajasthan, a steady flow of book-printing orders subsidized the newspaper and sustained the press’s staff.

Babu insisted on serving tea and snacks to anyone who dropped by the press, a practice that ensured frequent tea breaks for the staff. It also meant numerous trays of food and drinks travelling up and down every day, in addition to the steady stream of unannounced visitors to the family. So Mangi bai now had a helper—proud, loud, but efficient Kesar bai. She came every morning to sweep the main floor and wash clothes. Every evening, her demure daughter, Prem didi, arrived to do the dishes.

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