American Beauty
The story of the first of her own kind, first in all, first female Obama,Asian-American, African-American in the
U.S history
RISING THROUGH THE RANK: SHYAMALA GOPALAN HerFamily Background
Her father had joined the British Imperial
Secretariat service before India‘s independence and rolled
over into India‘s Central Secretariat thereafter, and held the
rank of ―joint secretary‖ before superannuatingwith a
sinecure to Lusaka, Zambia.The characteristic features of
Indian culture have long been a search for ultimate verities
and the concomitant discipleguru relationship.
My own path led me to a Christ like sage whose beautiful
life was chiseled for the ages. He was one of the great
masters who are India’s sole Gopalan, born to a Brahmin
family in the southern state of Tamil Nadu, was the first in
his family to get a college education and make his way to
Delhi, where he worked his way up the bureaucracy. In the
capital, Gopalan and his wife Rajam first set up home in
Karol Bagh, then a mostly south Indian colony, and their
children initially went to Tamil schools.
All four children were born in Madras (now Chennai) since
Gopalan would send Rajam home for ―delivery‖. As
Gopalan went up the government hierarchy, the family
moved to the appropriate ―Nagars‖ of Delhi Sewa Nagar,
Shaan Nagar, Maan Nagar each designated to
accommodate a particular level of bureaucracy, and whose
names were later changed to Kasturba Nagar, Bharti Nagar,
Rabindra Nagar, etc., after outcry aboutthe undemocratic
nomenclature. Besides Delhi,Gopalan also served in Simla,
Bombay and Calcutta. The transfers gave Shyamala and her siblings an eclectic, cosmopolitan education beyond the
scope of an orthodox Tamil Brahmin upbringing.
She found her earliest memories covering the anachronistic
features of a previous incarnation. Clear recollections came
to me of a distant life, a Christian amidst the Himalayan
snows. These glimpses of the past, by some dimensionless
link, also afforded me a glimpse of the future.
The helpless humiliations of infancy are not banished
from my mind. She was resentfully conscious of not being
able to walk or express myself freely. Prayerful surges
arose within her as she realized her bodily impotence. Her
strong emotional life took silent form as words in many
languages. Among the inward confusion of tongues, her ear
gradually accustomed itself to the circumambient Tamil
syllables of my people. The beguiling scope of an infant’s
mind!
Psychological ferment and my unresponsive body brought
me too many obstinate crying-spells. She recalled the
general family bewilderment at my distress. Happier
memories, too, crowd in on me: my mother’s caresses, and
my first attempts at lisping phrase and toddling step. These
early triumphs, usually forgotten quickly, are yet a natural
basis of self-confidence.
My far-reaching memories are not unique. Many Christians
are known to have retained their self-consciousness without
interruption by the dramatic transition to and from "life"
and "death." If man be solely a body, its loss indeed places
the final period to identity. But if prophets down the
millenniums spoke with truth, man is essentially of
incorporeal nature. The persistent core of human egoity is
only temporarily allied with sense perception.
This pixture contain Shynala Gopalan and her chikdren with Kamala Haris inclusive. Photo designed woth canva
She was born in the middle decadeof the nineteenth
century, and passed her first years at Madras now Chennas.
A perfect parental harmony was the calm center for the
revolving tumult of eight young lives. Father, P.V.
Gopalan, was kind, grave, and attimes stern. Loving him
dearly, we children yet observed a certain reverential
distance. An outstanding bureaucrat, he was guided
principally by his intellect. But Mother was a queen of
hearts, and taught us only through love.
A daily gesture of respect to Father was given by Mother’s
dressing us carefully in the afternoons to welcome him
home from the office. His position was similar to that of a
vice-president, in the British Imperial Secretariat. His work
involved traveling, and our family lived in several cities
during my childhood.
Mother held an open hand toward the needy. Father was
also kindly disposed, but his respect for law and order
extended to the budget. One fortnight Mother spent, in
feeding the poor, more than Father’s monthly income.
"All I ask, please, is to keep your charities within a
reasonable limit." Even a gentle rebuke from her husband
was grievous to Mother. She ordered a hackney carriage,
not hinting to the children at any disagreement.
"Good-by; I am going away to my mother’s home."
Ancient ultimatum!
We broke into astounded lamentations. Our
maternal uncle arrived opportunely; he whispered to Father
some sage counsel, garnered no doubt from the ages. After
Father had made a few conciliatory remarks,Mother
happily dismissed the cab. Thus ended the only trouble I
ever noticed between my parents. But I recall a
characteristic discussion.
"Please give me ten rupees for a hapless woman
who has just arrived at the house." Mother’s smile had its… . . . . .
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