A Baugful of memories

As Allbless Baug marked its sesquicentennial anniversary on October 13, 2018 with a jashan and celebratory dinner for 200 guests, memories of annual Allbless family dinners held at the Baug came flooding back.
My mother Abad, née Allbless, was the only one of Eduljee and Shirinbai Allbless’ three children who lived in Bombay and was therefore in contact with her father’s family. Her brother Dosu had emigrated to the UK after his marriage, and her sister Edda lived in Poona before eventually moving to the UK.
My mother’s story of how the family got its name differs slightly from other versions. According to her, one of her ancestors who was not very fluent in English used to greet people saying "God bless all” and thus came to be dubbed "Allbless” by the British. Whatever the origins of the name, as children, my sister, brother and I always looked forward to the annual Allbless family dinner at the Baug, memorable not only for the delectable lagan nu bhonu but also for the assortment of Allblesses who would gather for this event. The dinner was a sedate affair: there were no elaborate flower arrangements, no fancy lighting, no band baja (music), no booze — just family members seated in a circle, making small talk whilst waiting for dinner to be served. The best part was that there was only one sitting for dinner and no unseemly scramble to the tables when we heard the "jamva chalo ji” announcement.

Bust of Eduljee Framjee Allbless Photo: Rehan S. Daruwalla

My maternal grandfather had passed away before I was born, and my maternal grandmother died a few years later, but I vividly recall several of my mother’s elderly uncles and aunts, and a few of her younger cousins once or twice removed. There was Uncle Bomanji, whom my mother referred to as khalbatta (pestle and mortar) because of his stubbornness, Uncle Edulji and his sister Khurshedbai, Uncle Jamshedji, known to us as "Jamsu Ice Cream” because of his sweet tooth, and his wife Sylla, the light-eyed and debonair Bobby Dalal, and the elegant Roshan Lentin, who is currently the Baug’s managing trustee.
Uncle Bomanji or Kakaji as we called him, was an unforgettable character. According to family lore, Kakaji studied law in the UK but, being highly principled, decided to give up his chosen profession when he was asked to defend a prostitute in one of his first cases on his return to Bombay. The quintessential eccentric, and something of a germophobe, Kakaji would spend at least half a minute vigorously wiping down the receiver of his telephone with a cloth duster before speaking into it. He lived on the fourth floor of a building without a lift, and when he ran his errands, he would climb up and down the stairs several times a day. Occasionally, he would take a taxi from his Warden Road residence to visit us at our home in Chowpatty, coming up in the lift closely followed by the agitated taxi driver to whom Kakaji had refused to pay more than eight annas (50 paise), despite the cabbie pleading with him that the minimum fare had gone up to five rupees several years earlier.
Kakaji did not have any teeth nor did he use dentures, but still did full justice to the lagan nu bhonu at the family get-togethers at Allbless Baug, his jaw working furiously on the sali murghi, patra ni machhi and mutton pulao, wiping his hands on the napkin after washing them (leaving no tip for the man who came round with the finger bowl), and then blowing his nose in his napkin. Every few weeks, instead of taking us to Bombelli’s for ice cream, my mother would take us to visit Kakaji. As a trustee of the Allbless Baug, Kakaji would bemoan the rising cost of commodities and other issues that the trustees faced. On one occasion, when my mother suggested that perhaps it was time for the trustees to have women on the board, Bomanji shot down the idea saying, "Nahi, nahi, nahi. No bairas. Apri meetings khalasaj nahi thasé. (No, no, no. No women. Our meetings will never end).”
When my sister Rutton decided to marry Zulfikar Bharmal, an Ismaili student whom she had met while they were both in Elphinstone College, Kakaji was terribly upset. I don’t think he ever forgave my mother for letting Rutton marry outside the community. Uncle Edulji also voiced his disapproval to my mother, but he was less irascible than Kakaji. Edulji’s standing joke whenever he met me was to ask, "Baug karé lakhaon? (When shall I book the Baug for your wedding?)” Sylla had a lovely bungalow called Sylmac in Lonavla, half of which was rented by us and where we spent most of our school holidays. Although Jamsu and Sylla were often in Lonavla at the same time as us, we seldom interacted with them. On one occasion, when my mother had gone to the bazaar, my brother Yuzud decided to swing on the railing of the steps leading to Jamsu’s side of the house. Sylla told him to stop, but when Yuzud persisted she hauled herself down the steps and gave him a light smack. Even though the reprimand was probably well deserved, Sylla was sternly taken to task by my mother in whose eyes my brother could do no wrong.
As with all families, even the strongest ties are weakened by age, distance, ill health, etc. Two factors — my mother’s uncles and aunts passing away, and my parents moving from Chowpatty to Bandra — meant the end of any contact with my mother’s side of the family.
All these years later, it is heartening for us family members to note that the Allbless Baug has celebrated a landmark that not many institutions reach. Of the six current trustees — Lentin, Eruch Billimoria, Jamshed Dalal, Navaz Lentin, Tosher Govadia and Gool Kalyaniwalla — only Roshan is an Allbless. Despite the dwindling family representation, one hopes that the Baug continues to go from strength to strength. May God bless all.