The One That Got Away

Preface

Perhaps the placement of my birth was an accident, for I was born into a family of the aristocracy in the sub-continent of India under the British Common Wealth. My blood-line is the undiluted blue blood, as a descendant of the Holy Prophet Mohammad (peace be upon him) thus a true product of Arab stock. I often wonder about my multi-complexed background and the effect it may have had on my characteristics, individuality and courage.

One of my great grandparents migrated from Persia to India during the reign of the Moghul King Shah Jehan of the Taj Mahal fame. My ancestor was invited by the king, to come to India, enabling him to join the royal court as the Law Minister of the Moghul Empire. With this elevated appointment, came the endowment of royal prestige and nobility with the exalted title of “Nawab”. His estate was endowed with vast territorial domains as his personal property and for his descendants’ heritage.

With the passage of time, British Rule took over the reigns of power and the lawful Mughul kings were sent home to play marbles. Under these conditions the men of our family took law for their profession, becoming men of high status, powerful lawyers and law makers.

By 1882, a great deal of British law that was taught at the Inns of Court in London was incorporated and became the foundation laws of the Indian courts. Because of this, law became the focal point of education for the family, as the training grounds for law and other educational subjects were available in England. In view of this, the children of the family namely my Father, Mother, Uncles and Aunts, along with cousins proceeded to England to acquire a sound education and the men to take law degrees enabling them to be called “to the bar”. On their return to India they moved swiftly up the ladder of success in their new professions. Along with their professional training, degrees and adept accume, they brought back with them, almost a total English way of life. Their style of living, their mode of dress, their mannerisms and ideals of a western society. As a result of this, the next generation moved to England to enter English Public Schools such as Eton, Harrow and Pembroke before being admitted to Oxford and Cambridge.

As time passed the families of both, paternal and maternal progeny were installed in England where houses were bought and homes set up for our education. They sojourned for their schooling to England with complete preparation for moving into a new British social merry-go-round. Everything had a pattern and place, which was strictly adhered to ensuring the required social image. It was an era that carried a litany of “dos” and “don’ts”, yet if one was willy enough, much could be obtained, circumvented and covered to satisfy a self desire, yet conform to the formal social demands. The society became one of double standards.

I was an Easterner born in the era of the popular theory of “The mystic East” and the story of my birth is connected with a strange mystic symbolic episode. My dearly beloved parents were maternal and parental cousins, they were coupled by the family and given in marriage, at a very young age. My Father had recently returned from England and was “called to the Bar” in London at the age of twenty-one. Mother’s education was interrupted and she returned from a finishing school in Switzerland, at the early age of fifteen. Though they were contracted in matrimony, at a very tender age for any couple, but it was in accordance with the custom of that time. Soon after wedlock they produced first a son and then a daughter in quick succession. For the next three and half years, there was no sign of another infant. This the family found perturbing and my Mother prayed for another child. At that time, only a few lady doctors were available, who worked in most cases for delivery. Deeper investigations were few, and God’s will was the answer to most problems in those days.

Early one cold January morning in 1928, Mother was busy with the children in her room when she heard some confusion taking place at the gate. . She called to inquire about the problem, and was informed by the supervisor of the guards that a “Malang” (a religious mendicant) insisted on seeing the young mistress of the house. At first, my Mother declined and refused to see him, “Tell him to go away” she instructed. But he insisted that he had a special gift that had been blest and that it could only be divulged and given to the young mistress herself. My Mother was a Muslim, but was English educated and could not speak Urdu, so much of what was said had to be translated for her – yet being so young she was curious to find out what all this gift and blessing was about, and was desirous to hear the blessing that was meant for her ears only.

Under heavy male and guard escort she proceeded to walk down the long sweeping drive-way, while the mendicant who was also under heavy escort was brought into her presence.

Mother had never seen a mendicant before, so she was shocked as she looked at the long tangled matted hair, hanging like rope strands that hung down from all parts of his head. His matted hair was the colour of ginger rust, his beard had no starting point and where it ended could not be discerned. His thick red lips were tattooed in deep dark red and from his eye sockets, dark black eyes bore down into, her penetrating her with an intense fire that blazed against the white sparkling eyeballs. Mother stood there staring at him in complete shock and a certain type of fear as her discomfort mushroomed and spread slowly through her.

She endeavoured to look away from those magnetic piercing eyes that were almost hypnotic. Looking down in an effort seeking composure, she made eye contact with his mutilated torso, as no material covered it. He was an accurate sample of anorexia as his ribcage outlined his thorax. Around his neck was hung a large number of beads that varied in size, shape and colour. Strings of cowbell shells and mystic symbols also adorned his neck but his emaciated body was pathetic. Crosswise from his shoulder to his waist was wound the sacred thread of a “Malang” with more than a dozen amulets encased in silver boxes of different shapes and presentations manifested his spiritual leanings.

An old wornout loin cloth circumvented his waist. It perhaps at one time was black and maroon and in a tattered state it fell from his waist to his knee and then parts fell to his shins. A length of rough cloth that may have been originally mustard, curled round his waist in front as it hung down from his shoulder. Both his hands were folded together and tucked under the torn, age old fabric.

His sole possessions consisted of a small bowl shaped like a boat that dangled by its chains from his neck, a small battered reed mat strapped across his back in a roll, a spouted water mug like a teapot was tied to his side and a wooden platform with a mushroom set into the wood acted as a shoe, as it fitted between the big toe and the other toes. It replaced the use of a shoe and is commonly known as “Kharawans.”

Speaking to my Mother he said, “Look at me little one”. She was about to turn and flee but he said, “Look at the special gift I have brought for you.”

Mother stopped in her tracks and just stared. With his hands folded in a silent prayer he kept her waiting, then after the prayer he proffered her the contents of his hands. Intrigued she gazed at the closed fingers of his hands forming a lotus, as he moved slowly, unfolding them second, by second till both hands were widely opened and there emerged a tightly closed flower.