It’s been six months since my Aunt (Maasi), Rageshwari (Dhar) Mattoo, passed away, time has flown as though it had suddenly grown wings. No tribute would do justice to a woman who was iconic in more than one way, some glimpses of her life though would be worth sharing.
This was a woman who lived in an era in Kashmir where deep rooted conventions and norms drove behaviours, qualities and virtues, where being individualistic or unconventional were a taboo, perhaps unacceptable.
Today as I flip through the pages of her sojourn, my curiosity is piqued; the strength, the resilience, and tenacity that made her successful and enviable. As I try to recapitulate my own perceptions and views of a human who did not allow adversities to destroy her spirit, the verses from one of her favourite songs come to mind, a song by Lata Mangeshkar that she often hummed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJWsra2-MA4
Humaare baad ab mehfil mein afasaane bayaan honge
Bahaare humko dhundhegi na jaane hum kahaan honge
— Majrooh Sultanpuri
Rageshwari Dhar was trained in Indian classical music from a young age and had performed on Radio, TV, events and functions.
In 1958 she performed at a first of its kind Youth Festival in Talkatora Garden, Delhi accompanied on Tabla by none other than Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, the ‘Santoor Maestro’ who happened to be her batchmate. As a young student he was an ace Tabla player and had won the first prize in the percussion category during that festival. It seems he volunteered to accompany my Aunt on Tabla when it was her turn to sing in the vocal category; subsequently she won an award too for her performance.
As she continued to excel in music, she had the privilege of sharing the stage with legendary Begum Akhtar in Kashmir on several occasions, on Radio as well as TV, unfortunately there is no record left of those performances. My Aunt met Begum Akhtar for the first time in Kashmir at a friend’s house. Begum Akhtar heard her sing and was very impressed, she complimented my Aunt and confessed she sang no differently from her own disciples. She ensured my Aunt sang with her for all her performances in Kashmir be those at Tagore Hall or elsewhere. They shared a beautiful bond and just before her demise in 1974 the ‘Ghazal Queen’ visited us again in Kashmir for one last time.
My Grandfather had not followed the book in grooming his children. When girls were mostly being trained to cook and sew to become the future, ideal home makers, my grandfather was training my aunt in Hindustani Music under the tutelage of best Ustad’s of India or pressing her to master cycling. He believed those early years were crucial to developing skills and talent that would make women independent and confident. She essentially came from a different mould, even her first job as a Lecturer of Music in Women’s College was at a very young age, she was probably 20 or 21. Since she had a B.Ed. to her credit she was soon transferred to College of Education where her career took a different turn and she acquired a Masters in History in addition to M.Ed. Her specialization became teaching of History. We were in awe of her knowledge of the subject and her ability to memorize. Music resorted to becoming a hobby thereafter.
As a college student she would commute on a bicycle with two pigtails and looked more like a schoolgirl. In school her date of birth had been changed to October 1938, it did not make her look any older! Her frail frame and age continued to deceive many of her students at College of Education as most were much older and established teachers. Her career graph at College of Education is an open book more so for those who worked closely with her. Through sheer hard work and unparalleled competence, she grew to become the first female Kashmiri Pandit Principal of the College of Education, and additionally the Head of State Institute of Education (NCERT branch) with all District Institutes of Education across Kashmir and Ladakh (excluding Jammu and around) in her portfolio. Multitasking became her forte with all the District Institute heads and Tehsil officers continuously engaging with her and she coping with the endless interactions and meetings. She survived a very cutthroat and male dominated system. Not many would have coped with the pressure and demands of a dual role in the backdrop of limited opportunities for women of the minority community. She was conscious that many of the team members she supervised were senior to her in age and experience, some had been her teachers too; it kept her humble and grounded. Her promotion was a huge shift from teaching, there was a major responsibility on her shoulders -quick decision making, seamless implementation and execution, plus administration. She had to don the avatar of a warrior, combating all hurdles and challenges with diligence and efficiency.
Had it not been for our forced exodus in 1990, which literally rendered her redundant overnight (as Jammu had never been under her purview), sky would have been the limit for her. In Jammu she was offered something in lieu of the lost position, it was no match for her experience or competence; though it did not dampen her spirits. Her performance and ability were topics of discussion across various districts and regions and within NCERT as well. Her contribution cannot be understated, I would leave it to her colleagues and students to share more insights and bring forth her success stories. To her credit we had the privilege of interacting with, and at times being tutored by the best of teachers of the valley.
As I unearth the memories imprinted on my heart and mind, I recollect how elegantly she would dress up for work despite being overworked, beautiful collection of saris (her prized possessions chosen with lot of contemplation and patience) and tasteful delicate jewelry, nothing ostentatious. Because school systems were undergoing tremendous changes and innovation during her tenure, her SIE role and involvement with NCERT left her with little time for anything else. She had a very demanding career, she would leave early morning for work with a pile of files in her official jeep and often return late in the evening with another pile. She had turned a workaholic and her work would send her to different places which meant frequent travel. Fortunately, her children had grown up by then thus capable of taking care of themselves;their independence became sacrosanct.
For me, my Aunt will always remain Bintathi (an altered version of Bentaeth) although as a toddler I would call her Behenpyari, I am not sure how the transition to Bentaeth happened. Bintathi was like a lioness — independent, fierce, fearless, strong, graceful, and agile, highly protective of her cubs — a son and two daughters. Her children were bright and talented, and exceptional singers though they had no formal training. Like any parent she wanted the best for them, and they shone in academics as well.
She had inherited the foresight and vision of her father, at a young age her son Hemant was sent to hostel and attended the prestigious Lawrence School, Sanawar, near Shimla. Very few families would venture into such experiments those days, it was almost unheard of. I can personally vouch that was the best decision she made, the personal growth, exploration, self-initiative, independence, all undoubtedly were extremely rewarding. Her daughters Sangeeta and Priya as accomplished singers won many awards and recognition.
My Aunt has had an indelible impact on my life as we lived in the same neighborhood and she had moved there before I was born. At the time of my birth, she was due with her third child and my father in jest suggested should she deliver a baby boy he would gladly adopt him. Exactly 12 days after my birth she delivered a beautiful baby girl, Priyadarshini Mattoo, who in many ways became my twin soul.
Unfortunately, we lost Priya in January 1996, and that changed everything for my Aunt, she was never the same again. Words fail me in elucidating how the epitome of titanic strength turned into a fragile, stoic, glass statue, that held itself firmly yet could crumble at the slightest touch. My Uncle, late C.L Mattoo stood by her like a rock, though both were devastated.
To encapsulate the nuances of such a delicate and valuable relationship is no trifling matter. There are dimensions to her persona that I observed not necessarily as a niece; a connection that cannot be oversimplified.
Inheriting the social structure, systems and beliefs of a Kashmiri family was inevitable but we were neighbours too, there was not a single moment when our families would not have shared everything under the sun — the experiences, joys, sorrows, trivia, escapades — we were meant to be conjoined. Decisions were collective — be it school admissions, holiday plans, investments, hiring and firing house help, weddings, future, everything had to be planned unanimously. This held true for her brother’s children as well; we were very involved in each other’s lives and there were no filters. We were basically a huge joint family living in separate houses.
My parents would always attend PTA meetings barring a few exceptions where my Aunt would step in, as Priya and I were in same school and grade. Having a mother and aunt like Siamese twins, was overwhelming at times. She was even the chief guest once at our annual sports day at school, given our age and to have her watch our every movement and performance was nail biting, there was no escaping her aura!
I remember distinctly participating in an intercollege debate. While I was on the stage, all charged, I spotted my Aunt in the front row among the audience. I was not expecting her to be there, that too as a judge. I am told I was given second prize instead of first because my Aunt was uncomfortable favouring me or being misconstrued as influencing other judges, she wanted to withdraw from the panel. There were both perks and limitations of having an Aunt as a known figure.
Once when she was visiting me in Dubai, a very close KP family friend insisted he host her for few days at his house. He then threw a big dinner and invited around 50 guests requesting my Aunt to cook. That evening was a huge success, I am unable to fathom how she managed to cook such delectable, typical Kashmiri cuisine that too for a large gathering as her culinary skills were quite rusty. It just reinstated that when she put her heart and soul into something with dedication and interest she could turn around what appeared unsurmountable. An unforgettable experience for me as much as it may sound inconsequential.
Our association weathered many seasons, storms and tides included. My wedding took place at a time when we had collectively gone through a lot of trauma and anguish, my Aunt agreed to participate in the celebrations, nevertheless. As a keepsake I inherited two of her beautiful silk saris for my collection, I have preserved them, draped them, flaunted them and till date they have not lost the luster; untarnished - just like her beauty and talent.
She was one of the finest singers J&K produced but she chose to keep a low profile. The last I heard her sing live was in Srinagar, Kashmir in 2011, we were in a ‘doonga’(a minimalist houseboat) on Dal Lake. While the sun was setting in the background; true to her taste and style she came up with renditions of legendary Farida Khanum. Even at that age she sang like a nightingale.
Sham-e-firaaq ab naa pooch, aayi aur aa ke tal gayi,
Dil thaa ke phir behal gaya, jaan thee ke phir sambhal gayi;
Aakhir-e-shab ke humsafar “faiz” najaane kya hue,
Reh gayi kis jagah saba, subaha kidhar nikal gayi.
-Faiz Ahmed Faiz
My Aunt was a ‘feeling’ person like most women, ‘feelers’ listen to their heart, are sociable, and people oriented. She was a rebel in a milieu where status quo and outdated clichés ruled, she did not let the antiquated views hold her back. I don’t know how many women in that era took complete responsibility of their own lives and not allow anyone to dictate their worth. She had carved her own niche as she had the courage to step out of her comfort zone.
An interesting trivia about her is that people would often compare her to the actress of yore ‘Rakhee’. She was quite an avant-garde for a fairly conservative Kashmiri society but equally modest about her accomplishments.
As a grandmother and grand-aunt she had her way with children, a hidden knack she had saved for the very best. Perhaps they brought her refreshing energy and her playful self would emerge, a sight unseen and priceless; letting her guard down and building a wonderful rapport with kids.
From an impressionable age I had observed my Aunt go out of her way to help others; she was passionate about uplifting people, especially women. She was very hospitable as well, the innumerable feasts hosted by her are an inextricable part of my growing up reminiscences, the numerous musical evenings including a performance by Rajan and Sajan Mishra at her house, meeting the creme de la crème from fields of civil services, education, art, literature at her abode. She had even cultivated a tradition of inviting couples to her home for ‘dapan batte’ (Kashmiri pre/post-wedding ritual) which was not restricted to relatives but extended to newlyweds from families of colleagues and friends as well. I doubt she ever left anyone off that list intentionally. I may also have lost count of the innumerable people she helped pursue education, helped with securing jobs or upgrading skills, even resolving family quibbles for those who turned to her for advice, not to forget the matchmaking and successfully so. Needless to admit the magic potion she had consumed like rest of the clan was ‘sense of humour’, which perhaps became her ‘survival kit’ too. After all life had not be very fair to her.
When she was not the tough administrator or the disciplinarian, one would find her in her pure, deeply spiritual state which reflected in her singing, music being her religion, her lifeline.
Masto’n pe ungliyan na uthao bahaar mein, dekho to hosh hai bhi kisi hoshyaar mein,
jhoothi tasalliyon se na bahlao jao jao, Jao ke tum nahin ho mere ikhtiyaar mein.
-Hafeez Jalandhari
For the last few years, she had kept herself confined to the house, though she loved to keep in touch with family and relatives, colleagues, and friends. Her enduring humour and wit stayed intact till the end. The nightingale may have soared high in the sky never to return but her songs will continue to stir the soul and keep the light burning.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell to toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well as she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep in the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
A verse from ‘Ode to a Nightingale’ by John Keats
