A slice of family history

Thanks to messaging apps and social networks, families and friends have come closer. There is a joy in reconnecting with cousins, aunts and uncles, and knowing that you are family.

This afternoon, on my husband’s maternal cousins’ group, I saw a few photographs. Some of the cousins had visited the family’s ancestral home, and the village temple nearby.

The house, though occupied by other people, has stood the test of time – teakwood staircases and doorways, and lots of memories.

As I saw the photographs, my husband casually mentioned that he was born there, in that house. While I knew that he was born in that small village, I had not made the connection to the house.

That transformed the way I looked at the pictures. This was a part of our family history. My imagination soared.

Then I imagined how my husband would have walked up and down these wooden stairs on chubby legs, being chased by an aunt or his mom; how he would have played with cousins and watched the hens clucking in the yard. The home had a barn, where there was a beautiful cow named Radhamani, who was loved and cherished by all the family members. After my husband’s parents moved to the city, most school holidays were spent in this house.

Four other cousins were also born in the same house. Lots of stories and memories there.

I only know the husband I met nearly two decades ago, but starting from the ancestral home he was born in, and the lovely family who surrounded him, there were so many factors that have made him the person he is today.

It was nice listening to interesting family anecdotes, and to realize that there was a time, when my husband and I led independent lives, unbeknownst to each other.

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20 Responses to A slice of family history

  1. such places are always special…. nostalgic i would say……

    Liked by 2 people

  2. It is interesting to think about that. Through the many stories we have told each other, I almost feel like I am part of that past.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. katelon says:

    That’s wonderful to have access to such history. Those stairs look quite treacherous..glad everyone survived them. They look more like a ladder.

    My Mom’s dad came over as an orphan from Russia. The birth certificate I found for him makes no sense so it probably was a fake purchased for residency. My Dad’s mom died when he was 11. My entire birth family is dead and my Dad’s step family is so fragmented that his history is gone. My mom was an only child so that history is gone. I did find a house in Tucson, AZ though that my mom’s Dad built when she was nine and moved there. I taped an interview I did with my mom a few years before she died so at least I have that.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. reocochran says:

    I’m so glad you both love each other and enjoy separate histories, still learning new things over the years. Wishing you every happiness, Nimi and husband. 💑

    Liked by 1 person

  5. .
    My momma’s pappa came over as an orphan from Russia.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. mukhamani says:

    I loved what you had written about so many factors have made him what he is. True


  7. mukhamani says:

    There is a similar staircase in my father’s maternal uncle’s home. We have always enjoyed them, we had been there in May and once again I climbed those steps 🙂


  8. .
    My mum’s papa came over as an orphan from Russia.


  9. D K Powell says:

    Beautiful, For this reason, Kolkata will always be a special place for me to visit as the town where my mother was born and lived the first seven years of her life 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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