Written by Russi M. Lala with J.R.D. Tata’s co-operation, this superb biography tells the JRD story from his birth to 1993, the year in which he died in Switzerland. Divided into four parts, the book explores all the most important aspects of JRD’s life.
Here’s an excerpt from the book.
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Jehangir, later to be called Jeh, recalls his early years: ‘My childhood and youth, so different from those of the average middle class Parsee, were mainly conditioned by the fact that my father had married a Frenchwoman, and we spent half of our early years in Paris and half in Bombay. My father loved life in France, French food and wines, and because my mother was at first not familiar with the English language, the language used by all of us was French. What I remember most vividly is that we always seemed to be on the move, and that my lovely and cultured mother had to uproot herself every two years or so to find a new home—alternately in France and in India. With servants and office help available in India, her task whenever we arrived in India or left was relatively simple. But in France, where our domestic help consisted of never more than a maid and a cook, the job of finding a new apartment, furnishing it while looking after her growing brood—there were five of us—represented a real chore which she accomplished with amazing efficiency and apparent ease but at the cost of much fatiguing work.’
One of the problems Jehangir faced early was of language, brought about by his mixed heritage: ‘When I attended one of the government schools in Paris, the Janson De Sailly, I was a much better student in French than I was in English at the Cathedral School in Bombay.’
The language barrier was considerable; in addition, Cathedral School in Bombay bored him. He saw no reason why he should learn British history. ‘I used to ask “But what happened in India?” I have a good recollection of asking: “What about Aurangzeb?” and being smacked down. I don’t know why I chose Aurangzeb!’ Maths and Physics interested him.
‘My first important memories from the point of view of a growing child, blessed with a fairly observant and inquisitive mind, were about cars and aeroplanes. My father decided that we needed a home of our own in which to spend our holidays, and he picked on a new and developing beach resort on the Channel coast of France, south of Boulogne, called Hardelot, where he not only bought a villa but later on built a number of villas and shops as a real estate developer. In fact, one of the two main streets of Hardelot was officially named Avenue des Indes.
‘It happened that the legendary Louis Bleriot, who acquired world fame in 1909 by being the first to fly a plane across the Channel, also chose Hardelot for his family’s summer resort. Bleriot built not only a fine villa close to ours but also a hangar near the beach. On the beach his personal plane used to land much to the excitement of everyone there—grown ups and children, none more starry-eyed than myself. From then on I was hopelessly hooked on aeroplanes and made up my mind that, come what may, one day I would be a pilot. I had to wait many years for that dream to come true.’
R.D. perhaps felt that his family members were more comfortable in France and kept all of them there. Sooni wrote almost daily to him and he— even with his busy schedule–dropped endearing notes and picture postcards to his wife and children. Sooni mailed her husband frequent postcards in French written in Gujarati script. No prying eye could understand it! After Sylla and Jehangir a daughter, Rodabeh, was born in 1909 and a son, Darab, in 1912. In 1916, Jimmy, her last child, was born in Bombay.
