The Maharaja's English Connection

By Joan Duncan

Neil Duncan, 1956

My husband Neil C. Duncan’s maternal grandfather was Arthur Ramdin. Neil put together a brief biography of Arthur who clearly had non- English antecedent. The account goes as follows:

The Descendants of Arthur Marius Ramdin (1857-1925) and Rebecca Maria Brown (1862-1952) 

Introduction

Arthur Ramdin with Rebecca 

Little is known of Arthur Ramdin: he was Indian and he came to England as a boy, but his origin is uncertain. Some say that he was the unofficial son of a Maharaja, sent away to England to avoid embarrassment in high places; others say that his parents had died in a famine, and that a brother came with him to England. The name “Ramdin” was written as two separate words in early documents (“Ram Din”). It seems unlikely that his original names were “Arthur Marius”- or even “Ram Din."

 {It seems this assumption that he was a close relative of a Maharaja is true (Aunt Margaret always insisted it was a fact) He wore a stiff white collar in the Etonian tradition. Joan}                                                                                                                     

                                     

Rebecca M. Ramdin, 1915

Rebecca Maria Brown was the first child of Rebecca Boxall and Benjamin Brown (described as a “journeyman tailor”) of Haslemere, West Sussex. Arthur and Rebecca were married in Haslemere on 4th November 1882, and their first child (Edith Agnes, known as Edie) was born there in 1883. They went on have eleven more children, including Connie (1899)[1] and their last-born George (1906). The family eventually settled in Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex, where they rented a large terraced house (29 Park Road: two main floors, plus a semi-basement and an attic), and then took over number 31 as well. Both houses were called “Augusta,” and were run as a boarding house[2]. By 1921, the houses had been re-numbered (29 became 16)-but, for thirty years or more, the seven stone steps up to the front doors of “Augusta,” Park Road, were the standard setting for family photographs.

Seven stone steps of Augusta

Hazel, Grace and Connie, 1915

In some documents, Arthur’s occupation was given as “Boarding House Proprietor”-but he worked as a waiter in London, apparently, and spent long periods away from home.[3]However, Rebecca managed to produce her twelve children in 23 years, and they all had Indian looks. It has been suggested that, since the fifth child was given the name “Septus,” there must have been two earlier children-but there’s no trace of them. So perhaps it was just a misunderstanding. Rebecca, who was probably responsible for the names, was not a Latin scholar. But she could certainly count: she was particularly keen on card-games, especially if there was money at stake, and her children took after her. With no radio (let alone television), people made their own amusements. And it wasn’t just cards…

The Ramdin family must have been well-known locally, or even notorious.

Rebecca M. Ramdin, 1945

Indian gentlemen were not a common sight in those days (not in Bexhill, anyway), and the dusky children, who grew into pretty young women and handsome young men, clearly attracted swarms of admirers. The “Augusta” establishment -two large houses, with many rooms-gave ample opportunities for natural inclinations to prosper. It was probably the centre of a very lively social scene-on that, in retrospect, would make the “Swinging Sixties” look like an Enid Blyton story. Indeed, the youngest daughter Lily Augusta (known as “Ba-Ba”) died of an illegal abortion when she was 19 years old.

The list of the descendants of Arthur and Rebecca Ramdin (with the family) is necessarily restricted to the “official” ones. There may well be others.

                                                                                                         (NCD, September 1993: revised May 2001)

The Maharaja:

Maharaja Nripendra Narayan of Coochbehar, a small principality in the east of India, had come from Moor Hall, Ninfield to Bexhill to convalesce.

Maharaja Nripendra Narayan
of Coochbehar

He died a few months later and his funeral took place on 21 September 1911. He was popular with the British Raj and was acclaimed at the Court of St. James, as the ideal Indian prince. All his four sons studied at Eton. When he died from complications due to pneumonia, King George V gave him a royal funeral with full military honours. A memorial drinking fountain was dedicated to Nripendra Narayan and formally opened by his son Jitendra Narayan, who succeeded him to the throne. 

Bexhill on Sea Observer. 20 September 1913 reported:

‘The erection in England of a memorial to the Ruler of an Indian State must be an incident of a unique character, and those who were privileged to witness the ceremonial opening of the Maharajah of Cooch Behar fountain at Bexhill on Thursday afternoon were spectators of an event of rare occurrence and world-wide interest. The proceedings were admirably arranged and though brief in duration, they could hardly have been of a more suitable character. The Mayor, who is always seen at his best on such occasions, had the able support of the Mayoress, while the Town Clerk had spared no effort to render the ceremony agreeable to the distinguished visitors who were honouring the town with their presence. The young Maharajah, who has been suddenly called to the rulership of the State of Cooch Behar on the lamented death of his brother, made an excellent impression. Wearing a turban and a handsome native dress, he presented a striking figure. His speech was admirably delivered. Speaking clearly but rather rapidly, his voice was plainly heard by the several thousands of people gathered round, and the reference to his late father and the town of Bexhill could not have been more felicitously expressed. 

On the part of the public the greatest interest was evinced in the young Maharanee, whose marriage a few weeks ago under somewhat romantic circumstances excited so much attention. Her Highness was in European dress, her costume being black, and the members of the numerous suite were also in mourning for the late Maharajah. Smaller in stature than her husband, the Maharanee bore herself with charming modesty, and was obviously pleased with the beautiful bouquet presented her by the Mayoress. As a daughter of the powerful and wealthy Indian Prince, the Gaekwar of Baroda, her Highness was educated in England, and is therefore thoroughly conversant with Western manners and customs." 

The missing water fountain

The fountain was relocated from its original site and re-erected in, near the entrance to Egerton Park next to the Bexhill Museum.

It was removed in 1963 for restoration and has disappeared since.

Bexhill -on-sea, it seems, was the connection between Arthur Ramdin and the Maharaja of Coochbehar. Rebecca and Arthur may have chosen this seaside town to start their boarding house because it was a tourist destination or growing to be one. And the Maharaja chose this seaside resort because it was perhaps well known. Motor car racing must have added to its attraction and facilities. It is unlikely that Arthur was related to the Coochbehar royal family. Nripendra Narayan was a few months old when his father died and he had no male sibling. Members of this royal family usually used the surname ‘Narayan.’ But if there was indeed any connection between the Maharaja and Ramdin, it is lost to oblivion. (Editor)

Ref: http://www.publicsculpturesofsussex.co.uk

https://henrypoole.com/hall_of_fame/maharaja-cooch-behar/

Wikipedia

[1] Neil’s mother.

[2] They must have prospered as Bexhill was to be the birthplace of British motor racing. The first trail blazing races took place in 1902 and were a part of a campaign to promote Bexhill-on-Sea ‘as a fashionable new resort…’In May that year, the 8th Earl De La Warr worked with the Automobile Club of Great Britain and Ireland to organise the first automobile racing on British soil. Thousands flocked to Bexhill to witness the unique spectacle. ‘The very atmosphere reeked with the smell of paraffin with throbbing, puffing and snorting motors everywhere.’ (www.disoverbexhill.com) “ Augusta” must have been very busy indeed. 

[3] According to hearsay, each time he returned home and made up to his wife, there was a new baby. No one, however, knew where he was away to.

A Granddaughter's tribute to the Artist, Sarada Ukil

By Rita Dey

Sarada Charan Ukil, popularly known as Sarada Ukil, my maternal grandfather is something of a mythical figure to me. What is real are his art works that he left behind, some of the original which I have seen and many others that exist as photographs and picture post cards. My father, Indu Bhushan Ghosh, was his student who carried on the technique of ‘wash painting’ and I had the privilege of watching the process. My mother, Seema Ghosh (nee Ukil), the youngest daughter of Sarada Ukil and third amongst his five children is 94 years old and lives with me. She is my source of information about Sarada Ukil’s life, struggles, his reaching the height of fame and incidents related to them.

Radha and Krishna
Courtesy Mukul Dey Archives

It is important to describe here the type of paintings that Sarada Ukil did and my impressions of these which may or may not correspond with the views of an art critic. The figures were mythological drawn mainly with soft finishing and in details that seemed to merge with the background. It is important to mention that he used canvas, handmade paper and silk cloth to paint on. The paintings are so pleasing and mesmerising that I drift into a dream while gazing at them. For me, they rise above the normal artistic strokes and their softness engulfs me. 

Sarada Ukil was a gentle and soft-hearted person who loved his daughters (as much as his sons). He ‘grieved for days when his eldest daughter Sheela died very young,’ recalls my mother. The major part of the narrative is what she told me about Sarada Ukil, her father and the Ukil family.

The Ukils were originally from Bikrampur[1] of Dhaka (capital of Bangladesh). The family name was Banerjee, title ‘Ukil[2]’ granted by a Muslim Sultan, has since been used by the family. Sometime in the 1910s, the Ukils moved to Calcutta (now Kolkata). Since his early days, Sarada loved drawing and painting for which he was often reprimanded by his elders. His ‘guru’ was Abanindranath Tagore[3] at the Government Art School in Calcutta. Sarada used to be always late for his classes as he had to walk a long distance from home (his father, Abhaya Charan Ukil refusing to pay for art classes or fare to travel, since he regarded it below his dignity to do so, as head of the ‘Ukil’ family). Abanindranath Tagore got into trouble with the authorities trying to save his favourite student and left the school to start another of his own. After completing his training, Sarada moved to Delhi and joined Lala Raghubir Singh’s school, famously known as Modern School, as the Art teacher.

In Delhi, Seema recalls, they lived very close to the Jama Masjid[4] where Sarada began his own Fine Arts classes alongside his job as a school teacher. This is where several Sultans and Maharajas would come to get their portraits done. In her words: “I remember the Maharaja of Patiala[5] coming to the house. When father was doing the portrait of the Maharaja, we were not allowed to enter the room. We would have to peep through the ‘cheek’ (typical Indian curtain made from bamboo strips).”

“My father always sang Rabindra sangeet[6] when he drew or painted.” This reminded her of the day when Rabindranath Tagore actually visited the Sarada Ukil School of Art on Janpath[7]. Unfortunately, the kids had not been taken to meet him. 

Sarada was very fond of music and musical instruments. The Ukils owned a piano, an organ and other instruments. He encouraged his children to sing and dance and loved to take them out for long walks and visit historical monuments. He arranged to have music lessons for his daughters. An English couple once visited their home to buy a few paintings and the children were asked to sing for them. She remembers singing, “ami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini….”[8]. The couple were so happy that on returning to England they sent boxes of chocolates for the children. Seema says she can actually recollect the delicious taste of chocolates even today. After Sarada bought an open hood car, the children happily jumped in and went on picnics. They visited Agra and Fatehpur Sikri with their father. 

Mother and Child
by Seema Ghosh

Sarada would always do his own laundry[9] and went to the class room after bathing in the morning. Soon the pupils came in. He had designed special benches for different types of art classes. (I (Rita) would like to state that I have also seen these later when I went to Sarada Ukil School of Art with my father Indu Bhushan Ghosh who continued to teach there). Indu met Seema at the school where she had been his student and an artist in her own right. I have a couple of her originals with me.

Cover page of Roop Lekha
Courtesy: Mukul Dey Archives

The brothers of Sarada (Baroda and Ranoda) who were equally talented were inspired and supported by him to pursue the same profession. Soon the Ukil brothers formed All India Fine Arts and Crafts Society (AIFACS) which still exists in Delhi. The cover page of the art magazine they brought out, named “Roop Lekha,” was taken from designs done by their mother, Kumudini.

Sarada as Sudhhodana
Courtesy: Mukul Dey 

The Ukils were quite handsome and Seema recalls that her father, was selected to play the role of Gautam Buddha’s father, Raja Sudhhodana, in a film called Light of Asia, a 1925 silent film, directed by Franz Osten and Himansu Rai which is archived in Germany as Die Leuchte Asiens [can be viewed in Youtube: Prem Sanyas 1925]. Her mother Sobhona was very upset and did not speak to Sarada for few weeks because he had acted with a female actor (who was the queen and mother of Buddha) in the film. 

Buddha with a begging bowl

Later, Sarada painted the series on the life of Gautam Buddha or Siddhartha as Buddha was called before he attained enlightenment [there are more in this series in picture post cards], which are regarded his masterpieces. Unfortunately, except ‘Buddha in death bed’ which is displayed in the original in the Salarjung Museum in Hyderabad in southern India, the others exist only as photographs and picture post cards. We have not been able to trace the originals.

The birth of Buddha

Buddha in death bed

There are many gaps in the story as Seema’s memory fades with age. But the early death of her father in Delhi when she was only sixteen, is vivid. She relives the nightmare. Sarada was diabetic and lost his life to an infection caused by a cut in the finger. The doctors in Delhi held conferences in the house to decide on the best course of treatment. None of them charged a penny. The Maharaja of Tripura[10] had recently placed an order with Sarada for painting a series on life of Lord Krishna which he could not complete and regretted till the end. Sarada Ukil breathed his last on July, 21, 1940 in the large class room of his most beloved place, the Sarada Ukil School of Art at 66/1 Janpath, New Delhi[11]. Seema in particular was heartbroken. The death of Sarada at the age of 52, was not only a great loss to the family but to the world of modern Indian art as well.

The life after this for Seema and her siblings was no longer happy as they were forced to shuttle between her two uncles’ families. Seema was a good student and studied in St. Thomas School, Delhi till class VIII. She found happiness when she married my father and settled into the Ghosh family. But she had to discontinue her art classes as the family became dependent on the whims and fancies of her uncles.

I feel sad at the thought that Sarada Charan Ukil’s delicate techniques have gradually lost out to modern and abstract art. As I read this out to Seema, she narrated many more incidents of her life with her father which are too many to put down in one article. I hope to continue encouraging her to remember and relate more.

Rita Dey lives in Kolkata

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[1]Bikrampur was a district, an administrative unit within the larger division of Dhaka.

[2]Corrupted version of the term ‘Vakil’ meaning lawyer in Persian. It suggests that theirs must have been a family of lawyers serving the Muslim state.

[3]Celebrated artist, Abanindranatha founded the Indian Society of Oriental Art and founder of the Bengal School of Art.

[4]Jama Masjid, one of the largest mosques in India was built by Shah Jahan, the fourth Mughal Emperor. 

[5]A small principality in Punjab in north west of India.

[6]Modern Bengali songs composed by the famous poet and Nobel Laureate, Rabindranath Tagore.

[7]A school that Sarada later started in the centre of the city on a major thoroughfare of Delhi.

[8]A popular song by Tagore that translates as ‘I know you, I know you, a foreign Lady…’

[9]Not something men in India  did, especially in well to do families.

[10]A principality in the north east of India, presently a province.

[11]The school has also archived more than 3000 books and collections of Sarada Ukil. 

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Katrina: A Latvian Tale

By Vilma Giga

My mother, Katrina was barely 10 when she was orphaned, her mother predeceasing her father by a few months. Born in the village of Dunika in western Latvia, she had been a symbol of God’s special favour to her mother who had lost two sons in infancy. Katrina was pampered and protected by her adoring mother till one morning changed her fate. Theirs was a small but self-sustaining farming family that kept animals for food and for cultivation. One morning her mother out on her daily farm chores was thrown off the horse carriage and very badly wounded. The local doctor treated her but could not diagnose the severe damage that the fall had caused to her lungs. She took to bed very soon and passed away without being properly treated. Katrina’s father distraught with guilt and grief died not long after. Young Katrina was left alone in her farm home. Her aunt who lived in the neighbouring village of Rucava brought her home and took care of her. Katrina hated school and stopped after attending for barely three years. But she learnt all the trades of the farm and grew up to be very sharp with numbers. I recall her adroitness in calculation for I could never compete with her even after finishing University.

When Katrina turned 18, she returned home to Dunika to live in the house and run the farm which had been rented out while she had been away. Her skills were put to good use. She soon met a young man named Toms and they married. They had two lovely daughters and together raised a happy family and a comfortable household. One day, her husband was commissioned by the local court to be a witness in a criminal case under trial. The court was some miles away and Toms decided to take his family along. They had to stop for a night at an inn. While Katrina and the girls rested in the rooms upstairs, Toms went down to the pub to share a drink. He never came back. Someone had spiked their round of drinks and while one of the others tasted it and finding something wrong spitted it out, Toms swallowed his drink and died of poisoning. Katrina was left widowed with two daughters aged 4 and 2.

My mother met my father, Aleksands not long after her tragedy and remarried. The Second World War had already begun as their new life unfolded. Dunika was bombed for the first time when Katrina was heavily pregnant with me. She ran for cover holding the hands of her two girls into a temporary shed. The family was asked by the local authorities to vacate their home because there was to be a trench dug next to the cowshed. They moved to grand aunt’s house in Rucava where I was born in November of 1944. Within three months, my father was drafted into the Soviet army and sent to war. Katrina never heard from her husband again, didn’t get to know where he was killed and how and if he had had a decent burial. Deep in her heart she came to terms as did I, with the inevitable that, in all likelihood, he was denied one.

Katrina with her daughters,
Skaidrite, Vilma and Rasma

Katrina was back on her own with three little children to bring up. Dunika had been the scene of some grim battle between the retreating German soldiers and the marching Soviet army. Katrina returned to find her home destroyed by the invading Soviet forces and all her animals gone. Half the house had been burnt down. She began building her home and her farm bit by bit from scratch. But it was years before there was any semblance of normalcy in our lives. The village was besieged by Soviet forces. Latvia which had been an independent nation since 1918 was now conquered by Soviet Union and brought under its political regime. Soldiers of the Red Army marched the streets and raided homes with impunity. Each family was permitted to keep just enough to feed all the members; the rest had to be given up. Katrina was allowed one cow, one pig and a few poultry birds.

In the balcony of her apartment

I can still recall the chill we experienced during the unannounced visits of the soldiers. They would prod and push to see if we were hiding anything that we were not supposed to have in the house. It was unmitigated terror. We had hay to cut, stack and keep for which my mother hired farm labour. One young Lithuanian came to work in the farm. There was more widespread poverty in Lithuania (if that was possible) than in Latvia which barely survived. But it was illegal in the Communist regime for people to move from one region to another without permission. The local Soviet police were possibly tipped off by neighbours about the young man working for us and they came charging one morning. They threatened to shoot at the haystack in the barn and set it on fire if the Lithuanian did not show up. Our grandaunt visiting us was present and asked them to explore the attic which they did not. I still don’t know where the young lad had hidden but he was not found and we were saved. I still get shivers down my spine, reminiscing those encounters.

My mother took care of us, three sisters, sent us to school and University, never seeking respite from hard work. She ran the farm for as long as her health permitted. Then we had to sell the property and she moved to a neighbouring town. Money was never enough and she often had to supplement her savings by working as a cleaner in offices. She had a long hard life and lived to be 90. She died in 2010.

I can never look back to think of my mother Katrina without tears in my eyes.

Vilma Giga divides her time between Cambourne, U.K and Riga, Latvia