They live the everyday life of any Hungarians of this social class and the children get the highest education in all kinds of arts and several languages. Amrita spends her childhood years here… swimming and rowing in the rivers, enjoying social and family life.
After WW1 the family moves to India, the girls pick up sarees, a few more languages in seconds, while Indian culture seems to be their own by nature. She shows an outstanding talent in painting in her teens so much that the family decides to move to Paris just because that serves the best Amrita’s education. What parents they are!!!
So from India now they move to Paris, and Amrita gets accepted to Ecole des Beaux Arts at the age of 16!!!! Just like that. The first Indian (and probably Hungarian) and one of the first women there and probably the youngest also… What painting skills she must have had… And now she is enjoying all the bohemian life of artists, exploring sexuality with both sexes, and collecting academic prizes every now and then. She was already recognized and acclaimed at such a young age in the capital of art of Europe of that time…
And for summers they came to Hungary… where she sometimes joined Bartok concerts or bumped into companies of people like Frigyes Karinthy (one of the best Hungarian writer ever)... who also invited her for dinner… She remembers Karinthy being cute… Well….
Despite of all the shine and glory she found in Paris she decided to move back to India after some time. She had her own rules for both life and art, she always knew what she wanted and was not very shy to say it out loud. So she said then: “Europe belongs to Picasso, Matisse, Braque and many others… India belongs only to me”.
She was not fond of marriages much though she had men standing in rows to ask for her hands. Finally she married her Hungarian cousin and settled down with him in India. But it did not last for long, after three years she fell sick and died at the age of 28. What happened exactly, is still a mystery…
Elkezdtem a szüleimmel felvenni családunk történetét. Nekem sem könnyű ez. Nehezebben állom meg, hogy ne bőgjem el magam egy-egy olyan pillanatban… Ugyanakkor csodálatos, hogy akár egyetlen ilyen beszélgetés mennyire át tudja festeni a bennem élő képeket a múltamról, a rokonaimról, a hozzájuk fűződő kapcsolatomról és persze saját magamról. Hogy mennyi minden NEM véletlen.