Tradition was a load which gave lots of temper tantrums to parents. My mother was grossly unhappy since she had daughters. How to get her daughters married was a problem. She had a feeling that she was laboring for a lost cause. She would say, “After all, you girls will have to leave the house one day. You are damned because you are girls.” She would beat my younger sisters. She would rain abuses which would make me feel sad very often. She was told that her three daughters would have been boys but the entry of the moon into their rashis (zodiacs) converted them into girls. My dad didn’t like it. He would say, “My children are gems.” She would say, “You dung head! You have such worthless kids. Your daughters must learn some household work. You have given the boys a lot of freedom. Don’t buy costly pants and shirts for them. They are getting spoilt. These girls must learn to behave well. They have to go to another house.” My father answered my mom. ‘No use talking to you. You cannot understand anything.’ Going to another house or family displeased me. I realized that my parents will disown me one day. I was a third person in the house. I pitied my sisters who were not as sensitive as I was. I regarded marriage as a bitter potion. It was painful to think that it is a man’s world. I remember an incident which took place in my life. It again confirmed my views about certain elders and certain men. Picchu uncle lived with our family. He was working for Vanita Steels. One fine day he gifted me geometry instrument box. I was happy to receive the gift. Next day my parents had been to a theatre to watch a Hindi film. My younger brother Mohan was fast asleep on bed. My uncle was at home. I was in the front room. Suddenly uncle took me to the kitchen. This sudden impulsive gesture made me think. What has he got to do in the kitchen? Why is he calling me? Fortunately I could read the look in his eyes. I was aware that my uncle was up to some kind of wrong doing. I yelled. My shrill voice woke up my brother and uncle left the house. I told my mother of what had happened. My mother reported it to my father. She railed at him and abused him and literally ousted him out of the house. Picchu uncle told other members of the family that children of our house were crooked. He told in Hindi “Yedhe maa kay thedhe bacche.” I learnt that certain males are not trustworthy even if they happen to be fathers or saints.
Karnesh’s mother Janaki made frequent visits to our house. One day she laid a condition that if I score good rank in standard (grade)eighth, she will present me a beautiful dress. I told her that I would score a rank within thirteenth. To my surprise, I stood twelfth in standard eighth in Young Angels’ school. My aunt Janaki fulfilled her promise. I got a new biscuit designed cream colour dress from Abita mills. I still remember the goodness of my strict aunt who was a catalyst in my academic achievement.
Learning arithmetic and algebra was not a difficulty. I would buy slate chalk pencils from Gujarati man’s shop and solve sums on the house wall. While doing so, I would explain arithmetic to my imaginary students. It was nothing but a world of classroom for me. My students were silent imaginary ones and would listen to my logic. My parents would watch me from afar and smile. When I would see them, they would smile and ask me to carry on. My parents did not allow my brothers to disturb me. They would say, “Don’t go near her, she is studying. You all don’t study. At least let her study.’ This boosted my ego. It is not that I didn’t like household work. I liked to scrub vessels. But my mother was against it. She knew I would fall sick. She would order the sisters to find out whether I was scrubbing vessels kept in the sink. If they found me, they were supposed to oust me out of the kitchen. Since I was puny, both my sisters would nicely pick me up and deposit me on bed. They were my younger sisters. My younger brother Mohan was jealous of me and he tried to beat me very often. He didn’t like me getting pampered. He appeared irritated. He had a weak digestive system. Mom had to clean the toilet every time he defecated. When I was in sixth standard, I used to read a Marathi lesson, “Raaja bhikari majhi topi ghetli, doum doum dummak” At once Mohan used to stand in one place and shake his head and body daintily. I was amused. Sometimes he used to stand behind me, jump on my back and catch my neck from behind. I did not like it I would remove his hands from my neck and drop him down. Mohan in one of his moods had cut his front hair with scissors. It was an uneven cut which made him look like a cartoon. Remembering the incident of goat’s droppings, mom laughed and commented, “Oh no, you didn’t cut your hair! I suppose the goat was hungry. It grazed your hair, taking it for leaves.”
Ragini aunt’s husband Mr. Kartik had given my dad a loan of thousand rupees. He tolerated my presence in his house and told me constantly that my dad was not of their kind because he smoked. He worked for Brebett and Co. in Chitragaon. He used to taunt my father and asked me from where he got money to smoke although he had no money to pay back the loan. He wanted the money back. “Yenha beedi oodha kadaku, von appan vodavakaran. Beedi kudikarathaku panam iruku? Panam thirupi kooduka sholle”, he taunted. Dad took loan from Akhila’s father. He took some more time to return the money. I felt bad. Since dad had taken loan from Mr. Kartik, he did work which was extraneous to him. He planted trees, watered garden and taught my cousin Rajendra some English grammar. Though dad was educated in Tamil medium, he liked the English language. He wrote English words which looked as though they were printed. He mortgaged his goodness for money. For him, niggles in life continued. He was a well wisher who believed in educating women. Ragini aunt was good and loving. Akhila, a good cousin would tell me that my dad must return the loan he had taken. Surely when he had money to smoke beedis, why shouldn’t he return the money? I felt ashamed. Cousins would listen to Tamil songs from radio Lankeshwar. I listened to them attentively. Many songs were sung by T.R. Usha. A Tamil song impressed me because of the tune and the way it was sung. It dealt about the change in human behavior and values but the sky above has not changed till today. Maternal aunt prepared tasty food. Thoku, spicy chutney was wonderful to eat.
Mom had to go out of the house sometimes for shopping. The kids were really a nuisance. She could not keep them at home. She feared that they may be up to some kind of mischief. While walking on the road, one would run off leaving her hand and the other would cry. I would walk off indifferently to show that I did not belong to the group. She entered the oil shop. She purchased oil. She searched for money but money was not to be found in the bag. Her money had been picked. She got wild. Frustrated, she railed at her children and told, “It is because of you all, I have lost my money.” The shopkeeper told mom, ’Maaji, don’t let the bag hang from your hand. Instead fold the cloth bag and keep it in your hand.’
Dad’s philanthropic nature acted as a deterrent in leading a sensible family life. Once while passing by, he saw a beggar shivering in the cold without clothes. Dad removed his coat which was given to him at the time of his marriage and gave it to the beggar. Mom scolded him and said, “You pothead! Why did you give the coat to the beggar? It was your wedding coat.” Dad said, ‘So what? I don’t think it is wrong? The beggar needed it more than me.” Dad’s nature was such that even relatives took advantage of him. They got many kinds of work done from him. Dad had his duty at Silase. He was on night duty. That night it rained heavily. Two small babes were left abandoned on the station platform. Dad contacted many of the anathashrams (orphanages). None of them responded. Ultimately he contacted the convent at Silase. The two babes were drenched in the rain and were crying for milk. Within ten minutes, the nuns came and took the babes in their custody. Dad was happy when the babes were in safe hands. He did not believe in lofty themes and principles of religion. He believed in helping the needy at the right time.
Public functions and marriages provided opportunities to listen to popular songs. One could not avoid blaring music of the loudspeakers. Fishermen’s songs were in vogue. Marathi and Hindi film songs were aired frequently. The tunes got imprinted in the minds of the people. Festive atmosphere prevailed almost throughout the year. No one bothered about its interference with studies and examinations. Patriotic songs from films were common during National festivities. I hummed many of the fishermen’s songs in addition to Marathi and Hindi songs but I did not give up humming songs based on Carnatic music. Songs were in praise of Lord Murugan who likes puffed rice flakes and sweet jaggery cakes. I sat on the swing which was tied to the ceiling of the house. I was unaware of my cousin Akhila in the house. She heard me sing. She said, “The sound you made was just like a veena instrument.” I was taken aback because I didn’t expect her. She knew Tamil very well because she educated herself in a Tamil school. I asked her whether I committed mistakes while singing. She said that I did not err because I had learnt it from my mother. Another song praised Lord Murugan’s smile reflected on distant mountains. I listened to Tamil songs and sung some of them to my heart’s content.
Dad’s friend Mr. Prem Singh would visit us during the festivals Dassera and Diwali. Invariably, he would give us boxes of sweets. He would sit close to my dad and whisper something in his ears. My sisters would look at the way he talked and would think he was sharing secrets with my dad. Prem Singh would smile at my sisters. My sisters giggled looking at each other and at Prem Singh. Their giggle would distract his attention. Prem Singh would look at my sisters looking very happy and say, ‘Bahut kush hai na’. He would smile and resume his talk. Bhaiyyas of the kind stayed in Sagarpur away from their families in North India. They would send their salary by money order to their place. They lived without their families.
Dad also had a close friend, Selvan. He was good at reading horoscope. But he would take loans from my dad frequently. He studied horoscopes of all the kids. Rani was not of much use to the family. She would study and would suffer from ailments which a lady suffers in old age and during old age she will have symptoms of youth. Her problems in life would not come to an end until she bows down to the serpent of Lord Shiva. The serpent of Lord Shiva will guide and lead her to her destination. Because of Ketu (descending lunar node in astrology, also known as the South lunar node) her husband would be handsome but would be much elder to her. She would face times when food would act as medicines. She would find that there would be no need to pray to God. Hari would be a support to the family. He had strong Mars. The position of Mars indicated that he would go abroad and earn a lot of money. Under no condition should he get married before thirty seven. He would have to marry a banana plant and after one year cut it off. Marriage should be performed after this ritual. If the ritual is not done he would have to keep a woman as a keep. He would not be able to marry a woman. Revathi would get a husband who would turn out to be a drunkard and Uma’s Mangalya bhagyam was less. But she would get the support of her brother. Mohan had a strong Saturn. He would be interested in snakes, parrots, birds, toads and animals of the kind. He would be married but he would bear an additional child in poverty. Selvan spoke pure, rustic and vibrant Tamil which belonged to interior Tamil Nadu. Both my parents had great affiliation for the Tamil language. Dad would speak of the poet Bharathiyar – a versatile poet who wrote about freedom. He would speak of Arampatti where he spent his childhood in a hostel.
Once, the family excluding my dad made a trip to Thepi. Chandinagar was the place where my maternal grandparents stayed. My uncle Sudesh worked in a government office as an officer. My aunt (mami) would always be found in the kitchen. She would run the kitchen as per the directions of my grandmother. She did not have time to talk and laugh with us and she feared doing so because of the dominating nature of my grandmother. My brother Hari sat on the balcony and jumped from the balcony on to the asbestos of the house on the ground floor. Asbestos sheets formed the roof of the house of a Punjabi family. They would complain about my brother. My brother ran quickly. My grandfather would run after him calling out, ‘Hari, Hari’ but Hari would go round and round a pillar and grandfather would keep running after him. At times he dodged my grandfather. My grandparents praised Hari for his looks but always regretted his naughtiness. When relatives would come to know of Hari’s arrival, they would become alert and cautious. They would say, ’Hari is coming. He might ravage the house, create a commotion or he might get into some kind of quarrel with the neighbouring children. He would jump anywhere, run or do things which would invite annoyance of neighbours.’
In Shimpli, Hari had a friend called Arul. Both would join hands together and jump on asbestos roof, throwing balls, hitting bats on roof. They would create a row. My grandparents would shout at Hari. It was in Shimpli I got my first lessons in religious tolerance. My grandfather Rangesh seemed to believe in religious tolerance. Language, religion, caste, creed were not barriers for him. He got me dressed up. My ajji decked me up to go to Prashant Baba Hall in Shimpli. There for the first time in my life, I witnessed a Hindustani classical music singer. She was none other than Pushpa Devi. She sang about Lord Krishna who saved Draupadi from getting maligned. After a treat of bhajans, chocolates were distributed.
Those were the times when love marriages became the trend of the family. Picchu uncle of mine was working for Radcliffe Electricals in Shimpli. He was working as a manager. There was a receptionist called Nisha Joshi working in the same company. An affair started between the two. Both the families were against the marriage but nothing could be done to stop them.
Days passed. Once, while walking to school, on the way a crow flew low and hit the middle of my head very hard. People generally believe that such an incident forebodes a death in the family. I was not aware of such a belief. I had pain in the middle of my head. My mother had a dream of a giant tree being uprooted and the tree was falling. After a few days, we received the news of Bimala ajji’s death. She had meningitis and was admitted to the hospital. She was being treated for nearly a month. The grandmother was very much attached to my brother Hari. She tried her level best to make my brother study. She took him to various schools in Shimpli and made him appear for entrance exams. He scored miserably in maths. He scored zeroes. On one occasion, she fought against the school authorities for not admitting him. She wanted him to study, get a good job and make my mother happy. She considered him as a brave lion. He was naughty and bold. Hari had been to Shimpli to take care of ajji (grandmother). My uncles also took turns to take care of her in the hospital. Hari would perform all the errands. My ajji was in an unconscious state. It came to be known that someone removed the gold chain from ajji’s neck. My brother Hari was blamed for it. He got the beating. I resented. The whole family had to go for ajji’s funeral. We stayed back till the thirteenth day and on the thirteenth day a simple marriage of Picchu uncle and Nisha Joshi took place. The tirumangalayam (pendant which married women wear) which belonged to my grandmother was given to the new daughter-in-law Nisha. We returned after the function.
Suburban Sagarpur was rocked by a maniac, a dark man of south Indian origin who had a beard. He was Ratanam Velayudan who was killing people because Goddess Kali appeared in his dreams asking for bali (sacrifice). Rumours about him were on. Many had different versions to tell about how he killed people. One such version was that he used to kill a person by putting a sharp instrument from one side of the head and removing it through the other side of the head. The pavement dwellers were mostly affected by it. My dad was dark in colour and he had a beard. People used to catch anyone who resembled Ratanam Velayudan and they used to beat the man mercilessly. Colleagues in dad’s office asked him to remove his beard. And so it happened. Dad came home without a beard. I was happy to see him clean because I saw dad used to mess up his beard while having food. I had an unclean feeling about the beard.
Suddenly, my mom had a desire. She wanted to see how I looked in a half sari. She dressed me up in a white sari and looked at me and smiled. It was vacation time. I went to my aunt’s place at Ketannagar in Chitragaon. I couldn’t enjoy the vacation. I had high fever. I kept on asking for water during night. It was almost a trance. I was not aware of where I was and what I was doing. My aunt Ragini was worried. Crocin brought the fever down and I returned to Vanavli. I didn’t have an idea of what happens at puberty. I took fright when I saw my soiled panties. I felt that I was nearing the end of my life. My mom laughed, consoled me and told me everything. Quarantining the girl during her menstruating time is a part of tradition. I didn’t like being an untouchable but had to accept it. Menstrual bleeding continued to be clotty. Excessive bleeding started but wheezing bronchitis declined. During such times I was given separate bed sheets and components of a bed which mostly consisted of discarded clothes, jute cloth bags etc. My brothers and sisters were prevented from coming near me. I was prohibited from touching anything. My small brother asked me,” Are you sick?” He laughed hi, hi, hi.’ My brothers and sisters played with each other and while running behind each other, they touched me and even pushed me. The home had only one room and a kitchen. Mother used to get irritated. Her level of irritation increased when I had my periods.
I was in standard ninth. Menstrual bleeding continued uninterrupted. Bleeding consisted of clots. I didn’t tell my mom. I kept going to school. At times I used to feel tired and also dizzy. One day Hema aunt came and saw my hands and face. She discovered that I had turned pale. She told my mom that something is wrong with the child. I told her that I had been bleeding for a month. Aunt reprimanded my mom. At once I was taken to Ambika hospital in Vanavli. I was admitted and was placed in the women’s ward. I had seen a big hospital for the first time. I was taken care of by Mrs. Brooks, a matron or a head nurse, a close friend of my father. I had been to her house before getting admitted to the hospital. My dress got soiled. Mrs. Brooks provided me a sari which also got soiled. I was rushed to the hospital. Mrs. Brooks made it mandatory for nurses to supply boiled eggs for me every day. I was given milk and eggs. I took milk and not eggs since I didn’t like the smell of eggs. I told the nurse I didn’t want it. I gave it to a lady who occupied the adjacent bed. The lady thought I had children and asked me, ‘Kya hua hai?’ ‘Tumhare kitne bacche hein?’ I didn’t know what to answer. I kept quiet. Anxiety of what happened to me prevailed. I took the medical card which revealed the doctor’s assessment of my health problem. I read it and learnt about ‘Regular’ an American drug prescribed for regularizing my periods. I stayed for three days and was discharged home. My classmates Lakshmi and Dafny Williams and some nuns of the convent came to see me at the hospital. I was discharged before they could reach the hospital.
Mr. and Mrs. Brooks had a daughter and a son. Mr. Brooks was working with dad for the railways. Mrs. Brooks was dedicated to the job of a nurse. They laughed and cracked jokes amongst themselves. They had children who were smart and were schooling. My dad appreciated Mrs. Brooks because she managed her home and her job well. She directed dad to the compounder who provided necessary medicines. Calcium, iron, and vitamin tablets were given to recoup. Mom was asked to give me a glass of milk every day. I had to stay home and the school authorities told my dad that he needn’t worry. Sister told, “She will be promoted to standard tenth based on performance in previous tests.”
The open space in front of our building was taken up by a builder. The place was cleaned and construction for twin buildings started. Noise of concrete mixers, labourers, cranes etc. could be heard. Anamika constructions completed twin buildings having A and B wings. My aunt Janaki paid a visit to our house. She enquired about my health which had turned feeble. She praised me for my smiles but my sickness made her heart soak in sympathy. She stayed for part of the day and left. She advised me to take rest and get well soon. As for me, days rolled on into nights. When treatment for prolonged menstruation ended, dad decided to bring me tonics which contained iron, calcium and minerals. I had the tonic daily with a glass of milk.
After grandmother’s death, grandfather was alone. He couldn’t get along with any of his daughters-in-law. So it was decided that Maya aunt should live with him. Maya aunt migrated from Barona to Shimpli. Most of my cousins spoke Hindi. They attempted to speak Tamil but they spoke haltingly. I spoke Tamil which rural south Indians spoke.
I paid a visit to Subbu uncle’s house with my brother Hari. My uncle was working for Thomas and Fords Co. He took a rented house in Yamunanagar area near Bill Phata in Shimpli. He married a south Indian girl, of different caste. Aunt Mala had a lot to tell about my uncle. He didn’t allow her to have an oil bath because he thought that it would affect her health badly. They had a son called Vijay. Vijay took us to a nearby sugarcane field. He spoke village Marathi. He uprooted sugarcane from the field and offered it to us. We backtracked. On the way the terrain had various undulations, clay soil, rough rocks, thorns, weeds, sand and stagnant pools. One day early morning my aunt got up and was shocked. She could not find Hari anywhere. She searched outside the house and inside as well. She had a feeling that he ran away from home. Ultimately she found him under the cot fast asleep. She inferred that he might have rolled into the space under the cot while sleeping.
Mala was dark and beautiful. She had big eyes, was straight nosed, and had slightly thick lips and a rich black glowing hair. She smiled precariously. She was from a poor family. She had a mother and a brother called Ramu. Mala used to distribute milk (toned bottled milk) to 132, Astha nagar. My uncle Subbu fell for her and decided to marry her. She too found the man good since he was working for a good company, earned well and he was also from a high caste family. She noticed the rakish behavior of my uncle and decided to have only one child. Luckily she got a son Vijay and didn’t think of any more kids. Although illiterate and hailing from low economic strata of the society, she had the wisdom to restrict herself to one kid. She belonged to the clan of Dravidians who are dark but they are one of the most ancient sections of the Indian population. Mala and Subbu made a happy family and they went for outings with their son. I returned home to Sagarpur with my brother Hari. Hari worried me very often. He used to get in and out of the train frequently. He stood near the footboard. He got down wherever the train halted and got into another compartment when the train started. I was traumatized especially when I didn’t see him in the compartment where I was.
Study of history at school has not been as delightful as it was at home. History of events gives an insight into how cultures got mixed and how disunity created wedges in nations. History is an array of the psychology of the human mind. I studied it in the form of a story. It helped me to study human behaviour and politics as well. I by hearted the whole text and having learnt it, I related it dramatically. Movement of troops and battles between kings, study of art, culture, various religions and its tenets were wonderful. A broad band of historical facts of the world really widens the mind into a broader orbit. The sad fact is history has become a perverted presentation of facts and has been narrowed down to regions and nations.
I went on another trip to Shimpli. This time it was Picchu uncle’s house with my brother Hari. We had been to a village in Belami. The house was one room kitchen. I found that ‘dal’ which Nisha Joshi made didn’t have seasoning of mustard in it. Nisha Joshi tried to pull my leg and said, “The mustard got dissolved in dal, Rani dear!”. I was confused. I started thinking whether mustard could really dissolve in ‘dal’. Picchu uncle came from office. I asked him about mustard getting dissolved in dal. He laughed and Nisha Joshi also laughed. Picchu uncle and Nisha Joshi were of the same age. Aunt Nisha was in her second year of college when she got married to Picchu uncle immediately after Bimala ajji’s death. She spoke Tamil with Marathi accent. For ‘podawai’ which means sari she used to pronounce as ‘podwe’. We listened to it and were amused.
At Vanavli, Bhīma Park was close by. During vacations, we went into the forest. Aunt Janaki arranged for stove. Stove was necessary for making tea and warming food. We ran and played. My brothers, sisters and cousins were there. We played rings; badminton, cricket and some of us played ludo. There were many trees. We also saw some Gujaratis who came there to spend a day with their children in the forest. We climbed up the Ram tekdi and had a view of the surrounding area from above. Vanavli was more of green than of cement concrete. Bhīma Park was not a well known tourist spot then. There were no wrappers, bins, plastics, spills of eatables or dirt anywhere. It was pristine and really a health for the heart. It was not noisy with people screaming and yelping all around. It was a region of quietitude. One could hear the sound of birds, insects, and animals but not much of the sound of humans. We also saw few animals in the cage. Toy trains were not there because no commercialization had taken place then. The picnic refreshed me. The day ended with a good night’s sleep.
My sister Uma was chubby and fair. I tied her hair into a bun on the middle of the head. I had to put clips to keep her hair in order. She had her own world. If she experienced any discomfort, she would shout. She made people laugh. She spoke in Tamil. ‘Mummy, ni en pikatla waa’ It was her own Tamil and we understood what she meant. My other sister Revathi was peevish. She would steal money from mom’s purse. Mom would keep on searching. She would find a crumpled note hidden in some place rarely. Many times sister would succeed in taking crumpled notes. I did not like Revathi’s behavior even when we went on a trip to Thepi. We had the railway pass and were seated in an A.C. chair car. People who travelled in I class belonged to well to do families. My mom had prepared sandwiches and many other things for the journey since she knew children would feel hungry. They were greedy too. Before we left the house mom saw to it that our hunger was sufficiently satiated. My sister Revathi saw someone opening a packet of food in the train. She touched my mom very often and kept on asking for sandwiches. Mom had to attend to Uma who had cough and cold. Meanwhile Revathi started crying since she wanted sandwiches. I was surprised to see that Revathi was hungry so soon. I felt shy because I knew that other people would watch and mock us. I had developed the view that one must conform to refined manners of the society. I saw my irritated mom telling my sister, “You are interested in eating always, you greedy girl!”
At home I disliked my parents and siblings who quarreled amongst themselves. I told my dad, “I don’t like this house” several times. My dad thought that I was beset by depression and had a negative approach to life. Birth had put me in midst of persons I didn’t amalgamate. I pitied my mother because she had to manage such children. Her situation was hopeless as compared to her other sisters who had one or two children and had more money and time at their disposal.
A year passed after the demise of my ajji. We had performed the yearly shradham at home. Aunt Ragini had come. She was grinding batter for salty doughnuts (Wada). Brahmins must be fed as per the custom. The priests had come. My aunt was surprised and spoke nervously. ‘A white man has come. He should not be in the house when the shradham is going on.’ My dad, who had already cut the bonds of customs and beliefs, didn’t listen to my aunt. He welcomed him in the house. The tall, strong, broad chested and cherry coloured American, Johnson came from a rich family. He was fed up with his wealth in Evergreen hills and ran away from his home and came in search of an Indian guru. His guru lived in one of the caves in Peni. Johnson had a brother in Berronia. His name was Robert. Robert wanted his brother back from India. Johnson was unwilling. He found peace in India and was delighted to see Indian customs. He had come to witness shradham in the family. Dad explained to him all the rituals and their significance. My dad revealed in Tamil to my mother that the spiritual guru was earning a lot of money because of Johnson. The guru did not want Johnson to go back to America. Mr. Robert wrote a letter to my dad who was working at Silase. He wanted his brother to be released from the guru. Dad convinced Johnson that he could experience inner peace by being with his family. He could read, meditate and involve himself in things which really interested him. No amount of preaching or number of rituals can give him internal peace. Since he was rich, he could visit India to experience spirituality whenever he wanted to. I was tensed when dad went into one of the caves to trace Johnson. I feared what would happen if the guru found my dad helping the American to go back to America. My dad was cautious and careful. Dad helped Johnson to fly to America without the knowledge of the guru. The broad chested courteous fair American named Johnson wrote a letter back to dad thanking him for showing him the right way.
