Usually, landlords or landladies are not very friendly with their tenants. Even if they are, they cannot forget that a tenant is a tenant and needs to be somehow kept under control. They like to keep an eye on what the tenant is up to!
However, there is one landlord I always think of fondly and would like to talk about him here. When I was in school here in Dehradun, we lived for years in a bungalow with a huge litchi and mango orchard in the lush green Dalanwala area of the valley. The house belonged to Mishra ji, an old gentleman who lived in a house two houses away from us. His house was named “Anurag” and was a beautiful old style, cream coloured building with winding staircases outside and inside. It had a “Gol Verandah” that fascinated me greatly.
Mishra Ji lived by himself as his wife had passed away many years ago. He had two married daughters who lived out of Dehradun. His grandchildren and daughters visited him. But not often.
He was called “Nanaji” by most people and loved to be addressed so. Mishra ji spoke chaste Urdu and fine English and had a deep interest in poetry. This was what made me visit him regularly as a school girl. I also had a love for poetry, especially Urdu poetry. In the evenings, when I finished my homework, I would tell my parents that I was going to “Nanaji’s” house and they would allow me happily to do so. My mother would usually send a bowl of homemade white butter or “gajrela” (gaajar ka halwa) for Mishra Ji. In summers, she would send custard or whatever special dish had been made in the house that day. He would give me his very warm and sincere smile as I rang the doorbell, carrying the bowls of goodies. We would then sit in the “Gol Verandah” and discuss various things. It is amazing what a wonderful friendship we had. He would listen to my talk about my subjects and exams, my teachers and school friends, my favourite movies and songs. With great interest. He would recite verses from Ghalib and also lines from Harivansh Rai Bachchan, explaining them to me in details and answering all my queries. He taught me how to appreciate poetry and learn life lessons from it. I can never forget those discussions with the magnanimous, learned and affectionate Mishra ji.
He used to cook khichdi and kheer as he was fond of both these dishes and they were easy to prepare. He had a sweet tooth and would talk about recipes of many a sweet dish. I learnt a lot about the culture of Uttar Pradesh from him (Yes. Those days Dehradun was in Uttar Pradesh!).
At times, my parents would invite him over for tea and then there would wonderful discussions on literature and history. Those were lessons for me which I still remember clearly, after decades.
Once, when I was in Class Eleven, one of Mishra ji’s grandsons came from Bijnore. He used to cook for his grandfather and himself. Nanaji was happy to have him around. He looked much more cheerful and energetic while the boy was there. Once he left, I could see loneliness once again in his bright brown eyes. Soon, he was back to normal and our discussions carried on. Mishra ji would often tell me that I was too serious for my age and would go far in life. I used to feel good on hearing that. Now, when I look back, I agree with him about my being very serious. I cannot say how far I have come in life, though.
The house “Anurag” was broken down by his daughters and grandchildren and a new, jazzy building has taken its place. I pass that road almost every day even now. I see Anurag in my mind’s eye. The winding staircase I used to climb with the bowl in my hand, Mishra ji’s twinkling smile as he would see me at the door, his warmth and hospitality, his blessings , his encouraging words — all come back to me in a moment. I become a young girl once again who would run to Nana ji as soon as I got some free time. All those years I spent as a tenant in that house were indeed enriching- those magical growing up years!