Begum Sumroo's Julius Ceasar.

Julius Caesar & Begum Sumroo.

'Begum' Joanna Nobilis Sombre- Zub un Nissa (jewel amongst women) and Umdat al Arakin ((pillar of strength) Sumroo, built herself a Church- supposedly the second largest Basilica in North India now. Basilica of the Lady of Grace.

To look after this Church, a Padre, Julius Caesar, of Italian origin was appointed by her. Padre Caesar went on to become a Bishop- directives had come from Rome. Begum had sent large sums of money to Rome as gifts and donation to the Pope. Yes, she and the Pope corresponded.  On the Begum passing away, Julius Caesar to his horror found that he was given a paltry Rs.1400., for his life long service to her and the Church. With no choice Julius Caesar, continued but continued to cohabit, with Begum's last General, Peron's daughter. He was promptly summoned back to Rome, defrocked, and finally bit dust in the wilderness of Italy. 

A gritty story

A Gritty Story. 

 

No Sir, the doctor looking at my reports was uncomfortable. I was asked to meet another set of doctors in a more elaborate hospital. After the meeting and a series of invasive tests, the conclusion was the big C. My obvious question was, how long did I have. There were no answers forthcoming as it was too soon. I was shunted to Mumbai or my Bombay where I was born and grew up, for a PET scan that would give a detailed picture of the disease in me.

 

Bombay. My luck ran out as the PET machine broke down so the PET scan was done at another centre. Along with the reports I met with doctors who’d help me decide the way forward. By now I’d decided, I wanted to be treated on my home turf. My home, my residence in Goa. It would give me far more resolve, strength and conviction to fight the disease. The next task was to find an oncologist in Goa.

 

Goa is a very pretty tiny coastal state with a population of roughly sixteen lacs. As a Portuguese colony, it was known as Estado da India and was ruled by the Portuguese for four hundred and fifty years till India liberated it in 1961.There is a medical college and hospital which is slowly adding specialty departments. The other choice is a private hospital that belongs to a prominent chain of hospitals. My doctors chose the latter as they knew the chief oncologist.

 

I arrived at this hospital which looked pretty impressive and organised. The Out Patients Department is a comfortable area. Soon we were shown into the onco’s room. There stood the Chief Oncologist, very slim trim and an amiable faced person. He had already seen my papers. His question was, “Yes, tell me?”. And my standard question, “How long do I have?” “Why do you say that, I’ve brought back people worse than you.” I should tell my readers that my lung cancer was at stage four. After a long discussion he charted out a course of treatment with dates etc filled in.

 

The treatment began with a port being inserted near the collar bone through which the chemo solution goes into the body. For starters a set of chemotherapy sessions every fortnight. Around this time I took a turn for the worse. Severe diarrhea and no appetite had me tottering on the brink. It is then that it was decided to operate on me. Two surgeries were planned under one anesthesia, the lungs and colon were cleaned of cancer. The surgeon and his team operating on me were excellent. Then began a set of immunotherapy which stretched over a few months. My doctor by now needed a PET scan which meant a visit to Mumbai. This PET was clean and the doctors and I were happy chappies. In between there were a few hospitalisations because the immunotherapy didn’t agree with me and that was trying.. About four months later the chief wanted another PET scan. Most despicable because travel is tiresome, but done it had to be. Doctor friends had fixed the appointment in Mumbai. With PET scan over I landed in Goa and the report had been whatsapped to me. I was stunned to read the report. The big C was back on the lungs. We met Chief next day. He too was upset. The battle began again with a combination of drugs.

 

It's three years now and I am clean. The struggle has been arduous for both the oncology team, the nurses too and me. However I live to tell you, near and dear ones my story.

Jehangir Gallery, Wayside Inn and Victory Stall.

Jehangir Art Gallery looks a ghost of it's past glory. Tattered, ramshackled, badly kept, paint peeling and looks like it is coming apart.

There were days when Masters like Hebbar, Ara, Hussain, Raza et al. would line up to show their work. Rameshwar, better known as Ram Chatterjee held sway as the Secretary of the Gallery and ran extremely successful workshops with the who's who of painting.

And Mrs. Usha Khanna ran Cafe Samovar, with warmth, elan and a touch artistry too.

Across the road, on Rampart Row was Wayside Inn with it's scrumptious Mixed Grill.
You could drive almost upto the Gateway of India, Apollo Bunder, to.....NO, not to the The Taj Mahal Hotel (without the tower then) BUT to the Victory Stall, on the waterfront, This wonderfully quaint little eatery was run by the Time and Talent Club, mostly wives of Parsi retired Defense officers. They also ran Horseshoe, Colaba. The best Dhansak, Brown rice and Parsi Dairy Kulfi then. After a delicious meal at the Victory Stall, we tread down the stone slope and negotiate a five rupee sail boat ride around the harbour. The boat was for your family.

This bit brings back beautiful memories of my mother Amiya, Aunt and Uncle Marie and Dr. PK Sen and my sibling, Supriya Banerji.

Bom Bahia to Mumbai.

Mahim in "town"??? Was spoken….
Let’s try and sample Bombay or Mumbai……
My "town" begins at Tardeo and extends to Fort and then Colaba. Where the Chillia, Parsi and Irani eateries () still exist. Baba Ling's is here too along with Olympia- great Chillia food. Rustam's ice cream sandwiches at Brabourne stadium. With Pyrks at one end and Asiatic Irani, Gourdon and Purohit's at the other end of Veer Nariman Road. Interestingly, Kamlings has evolved from a small family run restaurant to a regular eatery. My first three course there cost my a princely five rupees. The coastal food now. Kori gassi and prawn gassi are delicious at Fort. Kerala cuisine is best at Tulsi at Gunbow Street. At an Irani, do ask for Brun maska chai or “pudding”. It has it’s own signature.
Mohammad Ali Road meanders along past the Crawford Market and it’s food, meats and shops, past the whole sale markets pitching in with it’s own Bambiyya chchap Muslim brands of food which is scrumptious. Even for vegetarians. Minorities are vegetarians too. Bohri Biryani near Minara Masjid. Daal tadka or chaawal tari maar ke. Authentic Kutchhi muslim food in that area too. Sarvi kabab rotis and paya soup at Nagpada. Bhuleshwar has Khau Galli and vegetarian Gujarati fare. The crossing of JJ hospital offers mouth watering kheema pao, kheema ghotala or baida ghotala at any hour. By lunch onwards sup on tandoori chicken, seekh & boti kabab. Relished by daily workers and the well off. Matunga East, The place to savour Udipi and Tamil food. Yes, the sambar differs. Mani's (coin idlis for breakfast, Ram Ashray and Arya Bhavan- try the Iddyappams) serve piping hot breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. Dadar houses the Malvani fiery food joints, Sindhudurg that has mutton or chicken sukka, bombil fry, paplet masala, sol kadi a must try. Finally Aram at Mahim, for Kutchhi vegetarian world.
Buses No.1 and 4 Ltd ran through the night. The latter, till Andheri west, depot.
The seven islands of Bombay were Colaba (Kolbhat), Old Woman’s Island (Little Colaba), Isle of Bombay, Mazagaon (Mazhgaon), Worli, Parel and Mahim.
The nearby islands of Trombay and Salsette were merged to form Greater Bombay. Bandra, Khar etc. etc. are parts of Greater Mumbai.
Bhau Daji Lad Museum, formerly Victoria and Albert Museum, walks you back in time to these islands.
Bombay’s pre- Independence architecture is a confluence of two brilliant designer minds. The intricate gargoyles and bejeweled columns of the city show the Italian jeweler at work. And perfect execution by the British mind.
That, my friends is the Bombay I was born in. A truly compolitan city. The Island city of Mumbai. Where Dadar is too; the husband, whilst putting on his black topi would tell his wife "Me Mumbai la challo…" (I'm going to Mumbai), meaning Fort, and walk out with his black umbrella. Still happens in parts of Girgaum and Dadar.

Begum Joanna Nobilis Sombre. Zub un Nissa (jewel amongst women) and Umdat al Arakin

Begum Joanna Nobilis Sombre- Zub un Nissa (jewel amongst women) and Umdat al Arakin ((pillar of strength) Sumroo.

GeorgeGarh became Jahazgarh and then spread and became the Jhhajjar township of today. Ruins of George Garh must be around. This George fellow was a fellow mercenary of Tipperary Rajah William Reinhardt, who changed his name Sombre to get enlisted as Frenchman in the armies of Indian fiefdoms- Indianised to Samroo and married Farzana, a nautch girl from Chauri Bazaar, Delhi (yes, a station on the northern line of the Metro, I've been there in winter with Rajesh, fascinating scenes and food), Farzana later on was known as Begum of Samroo, a jagir given to her by Bahadur Shah ll. Begum Joanna Nobilis Sombre. Her titles- Zub un Nissa (jewel amongst women) and Umdat al Arakin (pillar of strength). Bye NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.


 Some more on Jahazgarh........

Jahazgarh is a small town located about 15 km from Jhajjar, in Haryana. It was founded by an Irish adventurer, named George Thomas and built a fort here known as Georgegarh which was later changed to Jahazgarh. The annual cattle fair celebrated here is a major draw attended by buyers and sellers from all over Haryana and out side.

George Thomas left irrevocable effect on the pages of history. Born in a simple family in Ireland, he was an extremely courageous person . He came to India in a mercantile marine in about 1780 and cane in to contact with Scindia feudal lord Appa Kandi Rao who adopted him as his son impressed by his bravely. In the due course of time, Appa Kandi Rao offered the area of Jhajjar, Beri,Mandothi, Patoda to George Thomas. George Thomas made Jhajjar his headquarter and in view of security constructed a fort at some distance and named it Georgy garh (modern Jahazgarh). Feeling happy at his military services, Marathas offered the area of Panipat, Sonepat and Karnal to him. Intoxicated with the increasing power, he declared himself independent of Scindias. With the aim to establish his independent rule in the whole Haryana ,he changed his capital from Jhajjar to Hansi, Having seen the increasing force of George Thomas,Sindhia asked General Paron who was the governor of Ganga Doab, to attack on George Thomas. George could not bear it, at last left his rule and went towards Calcutta in 1801. 

 

Note: Rani of Jhansi by Prince Michael of Greece a great read. Prince Michael had to give up his claim to the throne (willingly done so by him)when he married a "commoner".

Oodaipore !!!!!!!!!!!

Mangniyars- An Experience in Anticipation.

I start with my first on my wishlist. Our visit to Udaipur this September. Trying to experience a 'Mangniyar' performance. They get their name from 'Maangne walle'. Patronised in the yesteryear's by the royalty. They are Muslims, who hail from Barmer and it’s vast arid adjoining area, but now are very popular throughout Rajasthan, singing ballads of bravery and epics in their inimitable style. Mangniyars communicate through gestures, body language and the earthy lilt of their full throated voice. Interestingly, their Hindu- Muslim combination names have a parable too- Swaroop Khan, being one such, was seen in a popular musical program on television not so long back. 

The Catholic Inquisition.

The Era of Inquisitions began in France in the 12th Century AD.

The Inquisition came to Goa when St. Francis Xavier wrote to the King of Portugal, John the lll, in 1545 asking him to install it in Goa. 


Inquisition came to Goa in 1560 and was revoked in 1774. This was the darkest period of the Catholic religion.


A few pictures of the instruments of torture, used then, to torture the victims were mailed to me which I am sharing here.

Head Crusher

Judas Cradle

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Knee Crusher

                                                               

Rat Torture.

                                                                                 

The Rack

                                                                       

Sawing Torture.