I was born in a beautiful village in South India, which is the hometown of my mother. I was named RamaLakshmi, as I was apparently born a day after Rama Navami after the Sundarakanda parayanam, chanting of a section of the Ramayanam that was completed over the course of 9 days on Vasantha Navratri.
My mother was a traditional woman, who always spotted a kumkum on her forehead, wore always a bottle green and maroon cotton saree with thin two pairs of rubly bangles, with some stones fallen and pearl earrings. She had a mildly darker complexion and lovely radiant eyes. Unlike myself, she had much lively spirits and she loved peals and she had a very sharp nose. She was very outspoken and fierce spirited woman, yet very warm and extremely duty bound woman.
She had a culturally rich varied taste and would go about reading philosophy, the varied compilation of the Prasar Bharati archives recordings, with piled up cassettes of video documentaries of any topic ranging from agriculture, economics, spirtitualtiy, music, science, and what not.
It was always a world of exploration when she would discuss physics, mathematics in nature, the spectometric analysis of chemicals, and royal warfare strategies of ancient times , all at the same time.
She was lovely, with the smile of wondrous beauty and her songs at night were my confort. I always used to wonder, what was my purva punya to get her as my mom. Doesnt all children think the same way. May be, maybe not. I dont know. My mom was special to me.
My mother had a deep impact on me.
My mother was a woman of principle, deligence and discipline. Art to her was to be cultivated with a sense of seriousness and discipline and ought to be for a higher purpose and not towards indulgence.
A small miniature painting of the tri-murtis, Saint Thyagaraja, Muthuswami Deekshitar and Shyama Sastri hung on our wall lit by sunlight from our courtyard.
There was also a small painting drawn by mother's brother, of Lord Rama visiting the house of Saint Thyagraja. My mother's brother, was a schizophreniac but was a lovely artist and had a great sense of taste and smell. His collection of books and aggarbatti's were the talk of the village. No one seemed to mind, his wandering spirits or thoughts.
My dad was Chandrashekar Chatterjee. Yes, my mother married a Bengali.
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