By GANESH SAILI
‘ What makes all of you chant: ‘Geeta Khanna? Geeta Khanna?’ Is it a new mantra I have missed?’ exclaimed P. N. Mishra. As an excellent English teacher at Mussoorie College, he was known for speaking his mind about almost anything. ‘How I wish you could have seen Anand Baran’s mother in her heyday!’ The years had not been kind to Shanti Mishra. When no student opted for Sociology, rumours began to circulate that the management was shutting down the department she headed. I admit, like the others, I, could not help but notice the new girl who had just joined our college. She made heads turn— saying that she was stunning would be an understatement. She was a rare combination of beauty and brains. Why am I taking you back again to our days of wine and roses? Or Gagaland? It’s because news just came in that the matriarch of the family, aged ninety-six, had crossed the Golden Bridge.
Our story is about a shop selling alcohol near the Picture Palace cinema. Ved Khanna, the patriarch, was the first person in Mussoorie to combine satin and silk and showcase them in his shop window. To top it off, he ordered the snazziest signage of its time—our first argon-gas-filled neon sign with the word ‘Diamond’ emblazoned across it. Helping him run the store were two able assistants: Kundan and Mann Singh. They managed the everyday operations of the shop.
Author’s Collection.
But it was not meant to be. He passed away in his prime, leaving a widow (then in her thirties) to care for their six children. She walked through fire; she ventured into the dark, firm in the belief that if she persevered, there would eventually be light at the end of the tunnel. She sent the girls to Waverley Convent of Jesus and Mary, the second oldest school in Mussoorie, established by the Calcutta nuns in 1840.
Predictably, the girls caused many a shipwreck along the Mall road. To this day, I place the blame squarely on the teetotallers (including me) who would perch on the railings opposite the shop, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the beauties, each one prettier than the next: Sunita, Neelam, Ritika, Geeta, and Tinchu.
Raising five girls and a little boy in the hill station singlehandedly was no easy task. Then the Big Boys moved in to seize the stand-alone wine shops like Diamond, Bhola Ram & Sons in Kulri, Lala Kirorimal in Landour, and Bhai Dhian Singh in Library. None survived the combined siege. It marked the end of little shops selling alcohol.
Pic courtesy: Khanna family’s archives.
Anyway, over time, the girls settled down, and left the station one by one, and left the station. Our Roadside Lotharios, too, abandoned the bent railings. As for me, I blame Mussoorie’s decline on the day our wine shops closed their shutters.
With rare tenacity, Sheela pressed on. Briefly, she tried selling woolens: socks, scarves, sweaters, and gloves. Unfortunately, those offerings were not a patch on the warmth of the real thing.
Instinctively, she knew it was time to move on, so she sold the old homestead. She took her family and left the comfort of familial waters, bravely plunging into the plains of Dehradun, and then to Delhi.
In the crucible of small towns, many lives are lived out of courage. Her priority was the children, firm in the belief that things would work out. As I write, I’m happy to report that Sunita teaches yoga in America, and her sons are top-notch chefs. Neelam and Tinchu settled in Mumbai. Ritika lives in Delhi.
Whatever happened to Geeta, you wonder?
She met Arun Samuel, a handsome merchant sailor who studied in my school—Wynberg Allen, Mussoorie. They came together to launch an event management company.
And what about the little boy, the news of whose arrival had swept through the town like wildfire? Born after five sisters, it had almost caused an earthquake! I’m happy to report that he has come a long way. Rituraj manages mega-events all over the globe.
Ganesh Saili, born and raised in the hills, belongs to that select few whose words are illustrated by their pictures. Author of two dozen books, some translated into twenty languages, his work has found recognition worldwide.
