In February 2016, my grandmother and I went on a long train journey. It was dark and uncomfortable, and at one point there were cockroaches on me and I read fan-fiction to forget them.
Eventually, though, our train made a one-minute stop at our destination at 4 a.m., and we hopped out into the cold. A frigid auto ride later, we were in the warm glow of my great-aunt's living room, sipping coffee and eating plum cake. This was the first time that someone called me "my girl."
I like to think that this was where it all really began.
I had always been curious about the place that my grandmother would disappear to once a year, the place where my mother used to pluck fruits from trees during school vacations, the place that my great-grandparents had decided, in later years, to call home. It seemed peaceful and other-worldly, even to someone who knows the challenges of the pastoral. Perhaps this was because it had the whiff of another time, and was made of stories.
My great-grandparents moved to Chunar in the late 1960s, after my great-grandfather retired from his career in the railways. Though they had spent most of their adult lives in Calcutta and other cities in Bengal, they now sought a quiet place. A newspaper advertisement of this forgotten town somewhat in the middle of nowhere probably seemed just right.
Located in Mirzapur district in Uttar Pradesh, Chunar – though it may not seem like it – has an eventful past. Today, it is connected to Varanasi by road (23 km) and is known for its sandstone, pottery and clay toys. Evidence of settlement here dates back to as early as 56 BC, when it was occupied by king Vikramaditya of Ujjain, who established the formidable Chunar Fort overlooking the Ganga. Built on a rocky hillock from the local sandstone that is still found in the region, the fort has been besieged and offered refuge to many throughout history. During the Mughal era, it hosted the emperor Babar, followed by Sher Shah Suri (acquired through marriage) and his descendants. The emperor Akbar captured the fort in 1575, and it subsequently became home to the Nawabs of Awadh for nearly two centuries.
Eventually, though, our train made a one-minute stop at our destination at 4 a.m., and we hopped out into the cold. A frigid auto ride later, we were in the warm glow of my great-aunt's living room, sipping coffee and eating plum cake. This was the first time that someone called me "my girl."
I like to think that this was where it all really began.
I had always been curious about the place that my grandmother would disappear to once a year, the place where my mother used to pluck fruits from trees during school vacations, the place that my great-grandparents had decided, in later years, to call home. It seemed peaceful and other-worldly, even to someone who knows the challenges of the pastoral. Perhaps this was because it had the whiff of another time, and was made of stories.
My great-grandparents moved to Chunar in the late 1960s, after my great-grandfather retired from his career in the railways. Though they had spent most of their adult lives in Calcutta and other cities in Bengal, they now sought a quiet place. A newspaper advertisement of this forgotten town somewhat in the middle of nowhere probably seemed just right.
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| Views of the cemetery and interiors of St Thomas' Church |
Located in Mirzapur district in Uttar Pradesh, Chunar – though it may not seem like it – has an eventful past. Today, it is connected to Varanasi by road (23 km) and is known for its sandstone, pottery and clay toys. Evidence of settlement here dates back to as early as 56 BC, when it was occupied by king Vikramaditya of Ujjain, who established the formidable Chunar Fort overlooking the Ganga. Built on a rocky hillock from the local sandstone that is still found in the region, the fort has been besieged and offered refuge to many throughout history. During the Mughal era, it hosted the emperor Babar, followed by Sher Shah Suri (acquired through marriage) and his descendants. The emperor Akbar captured the fort in 1575, and it subsequently became home to the Nawabs of Awadh for nearly two centuries.
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| The Well of Love, with a dungeon and underground changing rooms |
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| Jharokha of Fatima Begum |
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| Execution area a.k.a herein occurred the execution of people |
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| Sonwa Mandap |
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| Prisons, where Humayun was allegedly kept by Sher Shah Suri |
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| A view of the Ganga from the fort |
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| Another view of the Ganga from the fort |
Following the Battle of Buxar in 1764, the fort was annexed by the East India Company and was the depot for arms and ammunition. When Maharaja Chet Singh of Benares (Varanasi) raised a rebellion in 1781, Warren Hastings – the first Governor General of India – took refuge in the fort. At different times, the fort has housed prisoners (1815) and artillery (during the 1857 mutiny, when it served as a safe ground for the Europeans.) The home of Warren Hastings still stands in Chunar, and the cemetery provides testimony to many of the lives that passed through the town. There's also a cultural angle – Premchand allegedly taught a mission school here in the late 19th century, and the 90s TV show Chandrakanta as well as the 2012 film Gangs of Wasseypur were filmed here.
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| Excerpts from The Letters of Warren Hastings to his Wife |
To my great-grandparents, though, it was simply home.
Simla, Delhi and Chandigarh are all very expensive and transport difficult & without a car one has a really difficult time. So back to poor Chunar, where things are cheap if nothing else.
– Excerpt from a letter written by my great-grandfather, dated 10 April 1970
Despite the harsh seasons of heat, cold and rain, there were little things to be thankful for.Papayas are all starting again from the old tree – we do nothing and all come up by themselves again. Two of those old lime trees are bearing again, slowly but surely. We have a sort of sweet lime which is double the size of our limes now [...] Our jamun tree does not bear very good jamuns but it's something – our custard apples are coming up again this year, and of course the pomegranates. My roses are blooming sweetly again after the rain.
– Excerpt from a letter written by my great-grandmother, dated 4 July 1970
Over the next few days, I got to see my great-grandparents' former home, now abandoned and overgrown...
...And their final resting place.
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| One of the many gravestones dedicated to soldiers buried in the Chunar cemetery |
When I wasn't playing with the littlest member of the house or riding on the back of a scooty or eating stew, my nani and I looked at old photographs. An important part of family history research is learning, and recording, who the faces in the photographs belong to.
...And found a photograph of her brother's family at the fort.
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| Circa 1960s |
My quest for researching my family history has been a long one; I used to pester nani for names every so often. A family tree had been duly prepared, but it relied on memory alone. It seemed that I would never get further, and I didn't know how anyway.
But after being so close to them on this trip, I was keener than ever to learn more – and I got lucky. Returning to Delhi, my random Google search this time struck gold, leading me to new names and information, and the Genealogy Project was born. With these leads, though I knew I would verify them, I started collecting all I could find, and educated myself on the ins and outs of genealogy research. The rest, as it were, is history.
I finally read the whole thing. It's really well written! There were cockroaches on you?! That sounds horrible!
ReplyDeleteI also looked at the three stories - you've done so much painstaking research!
The house looks really nice! Why is it abandoned?
ReplyDeleteI m from the same place it's beautiful house. Turned to ruin. The city was mordenised from British era sir Warren hasting.another beautiful house named hardless house of great detective HR hardless is also present there hardless family lives in London now but hardless wife was murderd there n the great three stories villa changed in school today
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written..
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting and reading, Ian!
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