BHANI nahna

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When our family was asked to write about our mother for this book we were both happy and excited. What a privilege! However, we didn’t realise how difficult it would be to capture the essence of this beautiful, compassionate, courageous woman. A woman who bore eleven children and, like many others of her time, worked without complaint to care for, clothe and feed us as well as spend many long hours helping our dad in our shop. 

Mum, or Mai as we children called her, was born on August 22 1923 in Bhuliafalia, Matwad, in Gujarat. She was the youngest of three children: Sonamasi was her beloved elder sister and Bhana Mama her brother. She lived in an extended family and was especially close to Sonamasi, who was quite a lot older, and her cousins Santimasi (who also came to New Zealand) and Valimasi. The three younger cousins grew up as sisters and did everything together and shared all they had with each other. Valimasi married and went to South Africa and Santimasi married and came to Auckland a few years after us. Mai was overjoyed when her ‘little sister’ arrived and both cousins kept in close touch with visits and phone calls.

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Unlike many families in the region, Mai’s family did not own land so she led a rather charmed life. She was allowed to go to school and was an excellent scholar, winning many prizes for history and writing. Later, when she was married, she had to set aside her love of religion and reading so the immediate responsibilities of family life were taken care of. After school she would help our momai (grandmother) with the housework and she also wove cotton pieces to sell. Our momata (grandfather) owned a boat and was a merchant by trade. He later went to South Africa to find work. 

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Mai married our father in 1941 and between then and 1947 had four children. Our father at this time had a fruit shop in partnership with a cousin and later built a fruit shop and dairy in front of our house. He had immigrated to New Zealand at a young age with his father and was educated here. Dad returned to Te Kuiti in New Zealand in 1947 and Mai was left to take care of the children as well as the household. The village women used to gather at the river in the early hours of the morning to wash clothes and Mai talked of the great camaraderie and friendships that developed between them. It is only after writing about her life that we realise how heartbreaking it would have been to come to New Zealand, leaving behind her mother, sister, in-laws and cousins. She would never see her mother again. 

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It was a very sad time several years later when Mai received a telegram saying her mother had died. How grief-stricken and helpless she would have felt. Indian households in those days did not have phones so all contact was by letters and telegrams. Mai eagerly awaited the postal delivery as she and Sonamasi were always writing to each other and a letter from India really made her day. 

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Mai, with her four children, came to New Zealand by boat via Fremantle then by a flying boat to Auckland in late 1949. Te Kuiti would have been especially hard to live in as most of the Gujarati families had moved away to be close to the Indian community in Auckland. We never heard Mai complain though! Her days were very busy caring for Dad, the children and helping out in the shop. She learned to speak adequate English for the shop and enjoyed the customer contact but her close friends were Gujarati and she loved visiting Santimasi, plus other relatives and friends in Frankton, Otorohanga, Pukekohe and Te Aroha. (In her later years she developed a close friendship with two younger Gujarati women who lived in Te Kuiti, Laxmiben Parbhubhai Bhana and Veenaben Bhika. They would visit her often and provided companionship as well as updating her on what was going on in the Gujarati community.) Winters were especially tough in those days and we would quite often wake up to frozen taps on the bitterly cold mornings. We had a coal range beside our electric stove and this was used to prepare most meals as well as heat water. There was always a blazing fire in the sitting room in winter, which doubled up as a clothes dryer.

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Mai’s first task of the day was feeding the birds that came and sat on the shop roof, waiting for her each morning. Even in her later years, when she was bedridden, the first person who went into her room would be asked, ‘Have the birds been fed?’

Manu remembers Mai oiling and plaiting his sisters’ hair then sending us all off to school neat and tidy. We had the fruit shop/dairy in front of our house by this time and Manu, Ramish, Amrat, Hari and Ramon used to help out after school. They would usually bring their friends with them, and everyone enjoyed Indian snacks and spiced chai for afternoon tea. Manu recalls Mai taking great interest in our friends when we were growing up and would ask about them even in later years. Leela, too, remembers bringing her friends home to enjoy Mai’s delicious cooking. 

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We all used to come home at lunchtime for hot meals. Mai made vegetarian curry or rice and dhal and Dad, who was a fabulous cook, usually cooked the main dish of the evening meal, lamb, chicken or fish, and Mum and the older sisters made the rotlis and salads. Imagine a huge pot of curry every night plus a mountain of rotlis! Dad sometimes made a dessert of beautiful apple crumble or fresh fruit salad. He believed that having good health was first and foremost so made sure we ate quality food. 

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The evenings after dinner were a special time for our younger siblings who would go for a walk with Mai. Mai and her little troupe would walk usually to the end of the town and back but sometimes by the river and bowling green. Laxmi remembers Mum had her money tied up in her handkerchief and then placed inside a pocket in her sari blouse. The walk always included a stop at the local dairy where Mai would buy us all a treat, usually an ice-cream or squeegee (a drink in a plastic bottle).

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We had a Volkswagen and on occasion we would all pile into this (no seatbelts in those days!) and spend a day at the beach or visiting relatives in other towns. A special treat for us was having fish and chips on the way home.

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Mai was gentle and caring and she was very passionate about helping those in need. In those days mothers received a family benefit for children and Mai used part of this to help those less fortunate. She hated wastefulness but happily donated to New Zealand charities and sent funds to an Indian ashram on a regular basis, asking that it be used to feed and clothe the needy. Hari recalls being outside our shop with Mai one day. He was just about to eat an apple turnover when a child walking by stopped and looked at it longingly. Mai said without hesitation, ‘Hari give this little boy your pastry.’ So Hari did! There were no arguments with Mai. 

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Mai returned to India twice, the first time around 1973 with Savita and Ramon to see her Sonamasi. Both sisters looked forward so much to meeting again and it was a very emotional and happy reunion. Savita says wherever she went in the village, Mai was forever giving to the local people and even when she returned to New Zealand requests for financial assistance, clothing and so on were never turned down. Our local post office was kept very busy sending parcels and postal notes on behalf of Mai. Many years later when Muni and family visited the village to distribute cash and gifts from Mai, the people still remembered Mai with great affection.

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Mai and Dad returned to India many years later to see her sister but this time also visited the ashram of the great Indian guru Sri Sathya Sai Baba. Mum was granted an interview with Baba, a huge honour as he chose her from many hundreds of people. She relates how he walked up to her and said, ‘Do you want an interview?’ What was that, Mai wondered, but she said ‘YES!!’ He took her hand and led her into his interview room where there were other people waiting and proceeded to give everyone a discourse on all religions being equal and how devotees all walk different paths which lead to the same God even though they may call Him by a different name. This would have been an absolute highlight in Mai’s life. Mai also now had time to fulfil her love of reading and spent many hours engrossed in Indian religious books and in prayer.

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Mai loved her grandchildren and was very protective of them. In her eyes they could do no wrong and she would often save them from being reprimanded—even when they deserved it. She spent time playing board games with them and in the early days would spend time cooking their favourite dishes. Birthdays were always remembered with a card and a gift of money.

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All her grandchildren adored her and two great-granddaughters have Bhani as their middle name. Once her grandsons Umesh and Mahesh were going out to buy giftwrap when Mai insisted she had just the thing. She brought out a carton of crumpled giftwrap (which she had saved as she didn’t like waste) and when the boys politely refused she dived into the carton and pulled out a perfectly beautiful sheet of foil giftwrap. Umesh and Mahesh were about to use this until they saw a tiny card stapled to the bottom of the sheet which read ‘To dear Mai, love from Umesh and Mahesh’. We all thought it was hilarious, including our dear mother. 

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Mai did not have the best of health, especially after Dad died suddenly in 1992 and, besides having nurses caring for her, we sisters took turns at weekends looking after her. Ramish, Hari and Amrat and our sisters-in-law Val and Carole also helped out. Madhu, who is laboratory manager at Te Kuiti Hospital, kept a watchful eye on Mai’s health. We were lucky enough to borrow a bed from the hospital so Mai could be comfortably cared for. Mai was fiercely independent and right up until the last few months preferred to do as much as she could for herself. There were times when we had differences of opinion with Mai, especially about her exercising, but these were few and soon forgotten.

This was a very special time for us all. We would all gather together for the evening meal, children and often grandchildren. We had a chance to spend quality time with Mai and she loved talking about her days in India and early days in New Zealand. 

Towards the middle of 1999 Mai’s health deteriorated but we were able to care for her at home up until the last three days. Even in hospital her family spent most of their time with her. She passed away on 7 September 1999. 

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Our Mai always had an aura of dignity, calm, compassion and gentleness about her. We know wherever she is she will be looking after and guiding us.

 

OM SAI RAM MAI 

These memories are from her eleven children: Kamu, Muni, Manu, Ramish, Harivadan, Amrat, Madhu, Laxmi, Leela, Savita and Ramon. Most of the early memories of India are from Kamu.