To understand me you have to know where I came from. I am an unusual mix and have what I think is an interesting background. There are a few people in my family who inspired me to get to where I am today. One who is not so obvious is my paternal grandmother, my babajan.
Babajan was born in Chennai in India 1920. She was born into a comfortably middle class family, mostly made up of doctors and some other white collar professionals. Even the women were educated and had professions. At age eighteen she followed family tradition and went to medical school. She had dreamed of this all her life and her family were proud.
An eighteen year old girl from anywhere at any era is an innocent and naive creature no matter how they present themselves and there are men out there who like to take advantage of that innocence. In a tale as old as time, Babajan met a professor at the university.
Arjun. That’s all I ever knew him as and only when she let it slip once when I caught her in a particularly maudlin mood. My grandfather was a university professor called Arjun.
Babajan knew the ins and outs of reproduction, the story of the birds and the bees as she was in her final year at medical school. Biology lessons in the classroom or lecture theatre don’t teach you about the finer points of predators and their prey, the power of hormones and how mother nature uses her cunning to lead us guilelessly down the same path millions have tiptoed before us to reproduction. These things can only be learned through practical lessons.She knew the signs. Tender, swollen breasts. Sensitivity to certain smells, changes in appetite and her period failed to appear. She was nervous but delighted. To start a family so soon with her love Arjun was unexpected but such a wonderful blessing. They would have to marry of course, her parents were not fools and would be able to figure out the dates. They would have something very stern to say to her behind closed doors, but they would soon cool down. Arjun was a catch, she knew it.
She left a note in his pigeon hole at the university. Bland and formal like their notes to each other always were, this was how they communicated, arranged meetings, organised trysts. It was utterly delicious. Babajan left the note, bit her lip. She tried to convey urgency without losing a professional tone, in case it was read by another member of staff.
She could barely focus over her studies that night and lay awake in bed. She placed the flat of her hand over her still flat belly. She loved her baby already, had begun imagining their future together. She quietly hummed a lullaby hoping her family wouldn't hear her.
Next day at the university she checked Arjun’s pigeon hole. The note was gone. He had seen it. She went to the reception desk and asked if there had been any correspondence for her. A girl behind a typewriter, no older than babajan herself pursed her lips, clearly annoyed at the imposition. ‘We are here for the staff, not the students,’ she huffed, but went looking anyway. She rifled through a pile of letters on the desk and seeing the pained expression on babajan’s face took out a pad of note paper with messages scribbled in it by the telephone. She tapped her pen down the page. ‘No, I’m sorry Miss. Nothing for you today.’Babajan heaved a nervous sigh, thanked the office girl and left. She heard herself being discussed in less than glowing terms by the notoriously vindictive office biddies, but ignored them. She had to see Arjun.
She walked through the halls of the medical school, peeking through windows to see if she could spot him. She heard his voice before she saw him. In the main lecture theatre, holding court before a room full of students. She saw diagrams of the cardiovascular system on the board behind him. She stood on her toes and peered in the small glass window in the lecture theatre door and tried to catch his attention. He didn’t see her, he was too absorbed in his class. She had a class of her own she should be at. She told herself not to panic, she would probably see him at lunch.
Lunch came and went. Babajan had no appetite anyway. She tried to study in the library but she was too fidgety and drew annoyed stares from the student next to her.
She realised she didn’t know his address. She had never been to his home. He said relationships between students and faculty were forbidden and she would be expelled from the university were they to be discovered. He didn’t want any harm to come to his precious rose, so they met in secret. Hotels mostly. He gave her a ring that he said belonged to his grandmother and she wore it when they were together. They looked like newlyweds. She glowed with the dew of innocence and new love and basked in the knowledge and experience he bestowed upon her. He delighted in having her on his arm.
Three days passed before she finally pinned Arjun down. After one of his lectures ended Babajan hovered at the door waiting for all the students to leave. He couldn’t run from her now. She waited outside and Arjun still didn’t come out. She assumed he was gathering up his belongings and gave him a few minutes grace, but Arjun still didn’t appear.
She looked through the glass pane in the lecture theatre door. She saw he was still in there. But he wasn’t alone. A young female student was sat on the chair next to the desk at the front of the theatre. A student staying behind after a lecture wasn’t unusual at all, she had done it many times herself to clarify points. This was not a curious student making sure they understood what they had just been taught. Babajan leant against the doorframe feeling like she had been punched in the gut. Her breath came hard. Arjan was feeding this foolish young girl slices of mango with his fingers then proffering the fingers to her to lick up the sweet juices.
Babajan didn’t know whether to feel angry or sad. She felt both, and numb at the same time. Without knowing what she was doing, she pushed through the lecture theatre door. Mango girl let out a shriek, knowing the severity of being caught in the act with a professor.
Babajan ignored the young fool.
‘Arjun, I need to speak with you,’ she said firmly, but with a tremble in her voice. ‘It’s a matter of great urgency.’Babajan’s hands instinctively went to her belly. That was all Arjun needed to know. He stood up and stormed past her. He turned around as he reached the door and hissed at her, ‘I have a wife and children. A dumb whore like you isn’t going to ruin my life.’
Babajan crumbled and fell to her knees on the lecture theatre floor. Her life was surely over. She was pregnant and without a husband. She leaned forward til her head was touching the floor, stuffed her fist into her mouth and let out an animal wail of pain.
Then she picked herself back up again.