An article that I am reposting as some of my friends couldnt access it... on Gokhale-Dhavle family. UNBEATEN PARTNERSHIP By Rekha Dixit/Pune... Story Dated: Saturday, August 9, 2014 12:55 hrs IST THE WEEK Deccan Gymkhana in Pune is a borough caught between two worlds. The old one of stone buildings and wrought-iron balconies is giving way to concrete housing societies. Time, however, valiantly stands still at a red bungalow with Malabar tiles and a well in the yellow courtyard. Its inhabitants say it is the oldest residence in the area, built in 1908, when Gopal Krishna Gokhale moved his family to these mango groves following epidemic outbreaks in the city. “We try to keep the house as close to its original form, fighting real-estate developers daily,” says Shridhar Dhavle, 59, Gokhales great-grandson, pointing to two benches painted green in the courtyard. “Mahatma Gandhi used to sit on them, waiting for Gokhale to come out of the living quarters, which were ruled by matriarchs who observed strict caste segregation,” says the bachelor chartered accountant, his Santa Claus-blue eyes twinkling at repeating a family lore. The resemblance to his forebear is remarkable—he has the same squarish face, eyes and that distinct moustache. So frustrated was Gokhale by the women of his family that he began keeping a room at the nearby Servants of India Society complex, where he could freely interact with people. “Gandhi later got entry into the house. This is the room where they would confabulate while Kasturba would tell the Gokhale women, Gandhi-Gokhale, they talk, talk, talk all the time,” chips in Vidyadhar, 54, Shridhars younger brother. The Dhavles are mild-mannered, an alien trait among old Pune Brahmin families. They also display a rare and refreshing ability to laugh at themselves. “We are so anglicised that we even spell our surname as Dhavle and not Dhavale,” the brothers joke. “It is not easy being a Gokhale descendant in Pune,” they chuckle, remembering the angst of their formative years whenever Gokhales moderate approach was held up against Bal Gangadhar Tilaks radicalism. “The Maharastrian ethos has a negative view of Gokhale and, in my youth, I ,too, wondered why my ancestor took such a compromising attitude towards the British,” says Shridhar. It was in college, when he read B.R. Nandas biography on Gokhale, and Dileep Padgaonkars articles on him, that he understood and began subscribing to the Gokhale viewpoint. “He had foresight; he knew India had to first be made homogenous, that Indians needed to understand parliamentary democracy first. But he lost out when the freedom movement later took the colour of utopia, selling false dreams like—kick out the British and India will be decked in gold. The sellers of these dreams ignored the realities of India, but were worshipped by the masses,” says Shridhar. His brother says Gokhales ideas are even more relevant today when there is talk of re-energising the country. Vidyadhar, though, gracefully concedes that Gokhale will always remain the V.V.S. Laxman beside Tilaks Sachinesque adulation. While one spoke of the conservative dominion status, the other fired masses with slogans of Swaraj being a birthright and cannily converted Ganesh Chaturthi into a 10-day mass festival. “Gokhale was no street politician,” he says. There is just one statue of Gokhale in Pune, which is overwhelmed by a mango tree and traffic, and only a slum area bears the name of Gokhale Nagar, the brothers joke, but are quick to add that they never attempted to do anything either. “We should have at least got a portrait of him installed in the Central Hall of Parliament. He was among the greatest parliamentarians and was being groomed for the House of Commons,” says Vidhyadhar. Of course, Pune has the reputable Gokhale Institute of Politics and Economics, but that was established in the pre-independence era. The brothers and their sister, Jyotsna, 49, wear their legacy lightly, though they live surrounded with history. Yet, they subconsciously carry on Gokhales ideas. Vidyadhar is the third generation in the civil services, an institution Gokhale thought highly of. And, the family takes immense pride that Abhishek, Vidyadhars son, is studying in Fergusson College, an institution co-founded by Gokhale. Abhishek and his twin Jaidev (studying in the US) have an even fainter idea of their heritage, having grown up mostly abroad. Incidentally, they have the weight of another legacy from their maternal side: their mother, Abha, is the daughter of former national security adviser J.N. Dixit. Only a couple of kilometres away in Narayan Peth is Tilakwada, the homestead Balwantrao Gangadhar Tilak purchased in 1905. The imposing gate is one of the last vestiges of the original structure. Redevelopment inside makes Tilakwada a mishmash of architecture styles. Yet, history palpates here with much more vigour as his descendants strive to keep alive his phenomenal legacy. Kesari, the newspaper he founded, is still printed here; Deepak, 60, Tilaks great-grandson, is its present editor. The Tilak Memorial Museum established in 1999 showcases the leaders personal effects, including the original Gita Rahasya he wrote while imprisoned in Mandalay. Deepak and his cousin Shailesh, 50, are associated with the Lokmanya Public Charitable Trust and the Tilak Maharashtra Vidyapeeth. The family continues the tradition of organising the Ganesh festival in the Tilak style, with lectures and cultural programmes. Recently, the family held a two-day function to mark the centenary of Tilaks release from Mandalay prison, inviting families of revolutionaries from throughout the country. Though history has been kinder to Tilak than to most other freedom fighters, Shailesh rues that his legacy has been reduced to a linear one, only his radical facet being highlighted. “He not just spoke of Swaraj, he also talked of Su-raj (good governance),” says Mukta, Shaileshs wife and a BJP councillor. “He was a lawyer, mathematician, astronomer and author. He initiated the Swadeshi stress on financial and agricultural policies, he stressed on Swabhasha (mother tongue), believing the British education system would make only clerks of Indians. Just understanding Tilak in his entirety is a phenomenal achievement,” says Mukta. Understanding Tilak is what the next generation of the family is grappling with. While family folklore gives them an idea about the personal side of their ancestor, Shaileshs children Chaitrali, 23, and Kunal, 20, understood more of his philosophy through his biography written by D.V. Tamhankar. “They are English medium children, much literature about Tilak is in Marathi,” says Mukta, ruing the irony. It is impossible to hide your Tilak ancestry in Pune, and Chaitrali has distinct memories of a day in class III when there was a chapter on her ancestor and the entire class stared at her. “I hid my face behind my book, I was so overwhelmed,” says the attractive fashion reporter who works in Chennai, her grey-blue eyes growing large at the memory. The family has always been politically active, though keeping a low profile. Deepaks father, Jayantrao, was a Rajya Sabha member of the Congress and now Mukta has joined the BJP. “In todays political arena, it is very difficult being a Tilak and taking a central role in politics, we accept that,” says Shailesh. Kunal, however, has decided to follow his ancestor in another way. He is studying law, and will be the first lawyer in the family after Tilak, four generations later. But it is Chaitrali, says her mother, who is the strong-willed, rebellious and spirited Tilak descendant. All others are uncharacteristically non-confrontational. It is within these homes that one discovers facets of the two leaders that history will not tell you about. Both were light-eyed, like most Chitpavan Brahmins, a gene that is dominant in their descendants. Gokhale refused knighthood, but was sent the medal anyway, a memorabilia that is still tucked away somewhere in his bungalow. Gokhale had two daughters, Tilak three sons. But the direct descendants of both men are through one offspring each, Gokhales through his daughter Kashi and Tilaks through his son, Shridhar. More pertinent though is that beyond their fabled rivalry, they had immense love and respect for each other. When Gokhale fell ill, Tilak would send special water with healing properties for him. On Gokhales death, one of the finest tributes came from Tilak who called him a diamond of India. It is teatime at the Dhavle household and a nonagenarian gentleman steps out of his room. He is Balwant Dhavle, among the oldest living retired IAS officers. Balwant is Gokhales grandson and a living proof of the bond between those two great men. He was named after Balwantrao Gangadhar Tilak, Gokhales dear friend.
Posted on: Fri, 22 Aug 2014 08:42:48 +0000
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