As the road turned around the corner, the structure slowly came into full view-our ancestral house in the village of Chitgoppa, Karnataka. As our car came closer, winding through the narrow streets, I could see the street lined by many newer(atleast to me) buildings. The hustle and bustle of the surrounding areas was a stark contrast to the quiet nondescript street I remembered, from my last time here. This was my third visit and the last 2 times I was here, I had accompanied my father.
The very first time I was here was in the year, 1991. I remembered the house as a more complete structure then. There were no pictures of the original house, apart from an old black and white wedding picture, of my grandparents, in the courtyard. As I thought back to that moment in 1991, I immediately rued not having access to a camera. It was pre mobile phone era and camera phones were more of a spy thriller movie or science fiction idea!
The main door was missing, but the frame was intact. The entrance led to a long corridor and an intact roof over the main section that was sloping in, and was in danger of completely caving in. Even at that time nobody had lived in the house for many years. Unfortunately, lack of maintenance and vandalism over several years had taken a toll on the house. I remember my father mentioning how grand the house once was, and I did not doubt him. The massive outer walls atleast 40-50 feet in height constructed in stone, had huge doors and windows with elaborate carvings. Several rooms, big and small, for official and private needs, gardens and courtyards, with the entire house spread over several acres. His descriptions also included a large household staff for assistance with tasks ranging from menial to vital ones. He also proudly mentioned that the house once owned several livestock, horses and even an elephant! My mind had started drifting to a Downton Abbey like image until the thought of the elephant paused it, abruptly!
The main title, Deshpande(also the last name in our case) referred to an administrative role, an accountant for the region spanning several districts of that region(likely spanning tens or hundreds of villages)-land records, tax collection and auditing among others. The title conferred during medieval periods, through the Maratha rule and other regional powers, was hereditary in nature, and continued up until India’s independence from British rule in 1947. Our particular title was purportedly granted by the Adil Shahi dynasty which was in power in this region, during that period.
During out first visit, we gathered whatever was of value, and was still intact! Some of the items included paintings, sculptures and hanging glass decorative items among others. I even picked up a carved stone that likely lined a pathway, preserving it at our home in Hyderabad.
By the time I visited the house the second time, almost a decade later, the roof had caved in, entry was restricted to some extent by fallen stones and beams, and nature had more effectively begun to take over the area. I was still able to make my way into some areas that were deemed safe.
The pictures above are from my most recent visit, of what remains of the structure. Some of the original area that the house occupied was sold many years ago, and some houses now stood there in stark contrast to their ancient neighbor. A part of the section was also donated by my father, to a temple several years ago. The middle section, now was a defacto road leading to more houses. There was a large building across the street on the side, with music playing over large speakers, part of a wedding celebration.
The central section which supported the original roof, stood as a towering structure, almost defiant and unwilling to join the rest of its already fallen comrades! I thought about the house in its hey day. My ancestors living here through generations calling it home. For me though, calling it home seemed almost a foreign concept. My home now was far away, now thousands of miles from this place.
Lack of proper records, original pictures or drawings, lost to time, made it challenging to preserve its origin, changes through the years and its legacy for future generations. There was a sense of loss that I felt, in my inability to know about the history from its very beginnings. Only limited information from the time my paternal grandparents used to live here was known to me. Some of the information included stories about my great-grand mother managing the household on her own, including through financial distress. As if to drive home the point, the house cast a long shadow in the afternoon sun, concealing most of its story!
I imagined, the stories the walls could tell me about, if they could express them. Stories of births, deaths, celebrations, changes through the turbulence of historical events and even mundane daily activities of household and administrative type. I also thought of so many similar stories in houses like these, all over India. All of them, once “homes” to many, are likely standing as remnants from the past, repurposed as historical hotels, or erased to give way to modern dwellings.
Just for a few moments though, I tried to connect to the past, a past that was more about the house, its inhabitants, my ancestors, through the decades, centuries even. Their lives, this house, and the lives of my generation, of this “family” were all linked together. It was like our ancestral house in Chitgoppa seemed to form an invisible bond connecting us all together. This bond has and will survive time, transcending our physical presence…..even if this house was never my home.
Anand's Thoughts 