Walks and meals together open many windows. In this blog, around Father’s day, remembering family dreams, talks around coffee at Bloor -Toronto, Adyar New Jersey

A Dream- by Divya-(grand daughter of PNB-NB)

    Gaps do not fill, they fade away

Letter from Jasola- Delhi by Divya- in June 2021- on ten years of the passing away of her Nani-ji (Nirja Bhatt nee Uniyal), she remembered what Mausa-ji (Dr.Ram Prasad Nawani-RPN) told her about gaps on her passing away

See full blog : Gaps

In these years, Divya, has become a doctor, now works as a house officer in Apollo Delhi .

She recalled a dream, seeing her grandfather-PNB in the ward. She is apprehensive and uncertain that he will not recognize her as he last saw her when she was just one year old. In the dream, she also sees her parents, uncles, aunts and that reassures her a bit, as they would be able to tell PNB who Divya is.

Sigmund Freud called dreams the royal road to the unconscious, offering a unique and symbolic glimpse into the hidden desires, fears, and conflicts that lie beneath the surface of conscious awareness. In The Interpretation of Dreams (1900), Freud said dreams are manifestations of repressed wishes—often rooted in childhood experiences—that find expression through disguised forms in the dream state.

In the case of our family, recurrent dreams about my father PNB, who passed away suddenly, one day after his 60 th birthday may represent hidden desires, conflicts, processing of grief . One psychotherapist even said these could be spiritual messages from beyond.

Bloor-Toronto

What was satisfying, what are you proud of, what did you find challenging?

A mentor and fellow-traveler asked me several questions based on the above three themes around Father’s Day. The Bloor street -High Park area of Toronto is one of my thinking places. As we sifted through the nuances (too many and too personal to write in a blog) the mind’s eye went back to the museum trips my father would take us to, how my parents imbibed the love of the written word in us, and built a home library. I still have, in a modified form, the habit which Mausaji-RPN imbibed in me, to make notes (Purchi) of important passages. It has been satisfying to note that some of that intellectual curiosity has been imbibed in my sons in their own ways. It is also satisfying to watch them grow into their early careers after graduation. Sagar going the corporate route in New York City, Sahil going the academic root-finished his Masters in Industrial Mechanical Engineering and became a Doctorate (PhD) candidate in Toronto Metropolitan University. Challenges have been to connect my sons to the extended family, given the international life we have lived, being out of India since 2003. Last December, (2024) made it a point to visit Chachaji- (Shri Rakesh Bhatt) in Agra and introduce the families to each other. We also connected to families in Jasola Delhi, Bhiwandi Mumbai region.

Walks and Perspectives: History of New York Botanical Gardens-June 22,2025- we did painting of Native plants, explored Natural History and also the evolution of this gardens. Remembered my mother-who was a Botanist. The Britton Family -Nathaniel Lord Britton and Elizabeth Knight Britton were founding members of NYBG https://www.nybg.org/blogs/science-talk/2015/03/roots-where-the-gardens-founder-found-his-love-of-plants/

Earlier Perspectives:2014- A letter from a Family friend of Benares-Days 1950s, Pune 1980s

Then I received a unique letter “from yesterday” from an old friend, with whom I used to go for motorcycle rides in Pune, with my parents sometimes chasing us- Where are you off to? Those were the college days – and I was visiting the same streets where I had grown up as a small school boy-studying in Vincent’s , in a very different way

A Letter from Yesterday

Adyar-New Jersey

As we drove to 216 again, remembered the last trip in June 2024 and how the cat-Chakoo recognizes us now. The year before (2023) parents had come with us. Meals together are moments to remember family and community journeys

“Once my parents passed, we decluttered the house, gave away his clothes” we remembered a family loved one whose poems, short stories, songs still inspire us. I remember going to Pune in 2007, and he read his short stories. “Papa will pay” was a poem on how a young carefree teenager jumps red lights and then says- Papa will pay. It brings a smile to remember him singing the songs of Sambhaji and Tanaji – folk songs of Maharashtra, as we sat on the walls of Parvati temple. Later we went to Shaniwar wada- and recalled the times of the Peshwas, the haunted walls and associated stories.

Kaka Mala Vachva- Uncle Save me- (said to be by the ghost of Narayanrao-1773)

As we ate South Indian delicacies in New Jersey, I remembered some stories of Pune, Maharashtra (where I spent my formative years-studying in Loyola, Vincents and Kendriya Vidyalaya-Southern Command-KVSC from 1970-1982).

Meals and Memories made the mind’s eye go back to one of India’s most famous haunted places- Shaniwarwada of Pune. 

History and Haunting

History In 1773, it is believed that Raghunathrao and his wife Anandibai conspired to eliminate Narayanrao. According to popular lore, Raghunathrao had originally sent a message to the palace guards to “capture” (in Marathi: dharaava) Narayanrao, but Anandibai allegedly changed the letter to say “kill” (in Marathi: maaraava). As a result, guards stormed into Narayanrao’s chamber and murdered him brutally, dismembering his body.

Haunting:

Locals and visitors claim that on full moon nights, they can hear the terrified screams of Narayanrao echoing through the fort, especially the cry:
 

“Kaka! Mala Vachva!” (“Uncle! Save me!”)

Afterthoughts

Conversations around the anniversary of my parents, prayers and shared meals together at New Jersey and Elmhurst New York city and walks -discussions made for many rich nuances. Later we went to Riverwood Erindale area and did readings from the diary of Sophia Mcnab (1832-1917). Written in Dundurn castle -around 1845-1846, the diary brings alive the day to day life of the McNab family, writes about the sadness around the sickness and passing away of Sophia’s mother and how the daily rhythm helps bond people.

Remembering Sophia McNab-at Erindale Riverwood

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