Thakuma making kaanthas, the cotton spreads on which babies are laid or swaddled, made from layers of the soft cloth of old sarees and dhotis, stitched together, then embroidered using the simple kaantha stitch, tiny lines of colourful threads running across the fabric. Like the life-lines drawn from far away Khulna and Mymensingh – the origin points of her life.
I imagine my great-grandfather, Dr. R. C. De, standing in some provincial town in France during the First World War, choosing this gramophone in a shop filled with the shimmer of brass horns and the solemn promise of music, at a time when Europe was learning the sound of death.
I have seen the wooden crocodile crouched under my mother’s cousin’s shelf for several years now. This Burmese crocodile can be traced back to Sarat Chandra Chatterjee – the renowned literary figure whose contributions to Bengali literature have been immense, most notably Devdas – who spent years living in Burma, working as a clerk.
In 2022, we chanced upon a yellowing leaf of paper from the past, buried deep in a drawer among other documents. This was my great-grandfather, Bidhu Bhushan Sarkar’s election pamphlet from the first State Legislative Assembly Elections held in 1952 in West Bengal, independent India.
The object that we discuss here is a saree: a luminous, dual-toned Banarasi, whose history takes us back to a time period of more than a hundred years ago. It belonged to Tapati Rani Devya, my mother’s great-grandmother. She is a figure so distant from me in lineage, that I know only fragments of information that allow me to paint an incomplete picture of what her life might have looked like
This is a poignant and bittersweet story of Uma Chatterjee (Mukherjee), who was my mother’s paternal aunt. One of her noteworthy and only remaining creations was a tablecloth, made for a school assignment around 1958 or 1959.
Receive a new story from somewhere in the Indian subcontinent in your inbox every week!