The home coming

Murthy aunty looked very happy. I had noticed that she had been busy cooking for the past ten days and had prepared a lot of sweets. Uncle had got some new furnishing done and had got his second car repaired. The daily routine that both of them followed did not seem to change much, but there was  palpable joy in the air.   It was as if their lifeless house seemed to have life again. Those days as I would go on my morning walk, I watched aunty singing as she prepared the morning tea. I noticed uncle smiling as he was watering the potted plants in the garden.

I could understand the joy. We all were waiting for Shriya who was on her way back from US.

Shriya was the Murthys' daughter and was round my age. She had been my friend since childhood and we had practically grown up in each other's house.

"Tell me if you need something from here. I am so looking forward to seeing you all - especially Nishka.," she had said when she called. Nishka was my one year old daughter and Shriya was meeting Nishka for the first time.

The joy of meeting Shriya at the airport after her last visit two years back was inexplicable. We hugged each other and held each other's hands as we made our journey back home. Shriya looked pretty much the same. The first two days we ate and slept over at each other's places. We shared our life with each other. She had got pretty dresses for Nishka and creams and perfumes for me.

The next day we went over to few of the good Indian restaurants nearby and Shriya ate all her favourite indian delicacies to her heart's content.

Her vacation had just begun and I looked forward for more fun filled days with my dear friend. However I was in for a surprise.

"We are going to be back in Bangalore only on the last week of our vacation now, Veena," she told me on the third day at Bangalore . Knowing that she was in India for a four week vacation, I wondered what happened to the rest of the days. "Oh! We are going to Darjeeling with my parents and in-laws for a week. That way we will be able to have relaxed time together and we can see the Himalayas too," she said with a beautiful smile.

"Once we are back, we are planning to visit Mysore to visit a friend's marriage and going to Mumbai to see a new born child of a cousin. And then we need to go for our visa renewal to chennai. Also once we are back, we will be busy signing the documents for the new house that we have taken,"she said.

I smiled as I calculated. "Yes, that was 4 weeks complete,"I thought.

Life had become busy after all.

For the next few weeks, we got to meet Shriya only fleetingly between her visits. I got busy too. Office, child, and home took most of my time.

Shriya came back from her visits and left back to US.

It was raining heavily that early morning as I returned back after dropping Shriya at the airport. I sat watching the storm and the rain sipping a cup of hot tea on the porch of my house. I watched the beauty of lightening and thunder, I watched the downpour of heavy rains, I watched the swaying of trees and I watched the birds hiding themselves below the roofs of houses. I watched the people on the roads running around , trying to finish their tasks on hand and get home. After about an hour of heavy rain, there was silence. The roads were wet, the smell of wet mud wafted through the air.  The trees looked clean and bright. And there was peace.  But there was also the emptiness of a beautiful moment having passed by.

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Hope

"What did you tell her the last time you spoke to her?" I could hear Priya's husband asking Priya.

"Beats me.. I don't remember saying anything that could influence her to take such a quick decision to buy our product"

Priya was at my house to sell her special learning packages. The packages though good were extremely expensive and were not something that I would have normally bought. But something about Priya had touched me.

I will not forget that day.

We had just shifted back from the US and were still settling down. Some of our stuff had come to the Bangalore flat and we were expecting another shipment in a week. Our house was filled with unopened cartons lying around. The climate change and the excessive traffic was getting on to us. But the thing that we found most difficult was getting admission for our 13 year old daughter.

Even though Ria was getting called for the admission tests in all the good schools, she was finding it difficult to pass the exams because of the change in US and India syllabus. Since she was about to get into high school, it was really important for us that she got into a good institute.

That day yet another school informed us that Ria had not cleared the admission test. I was getting a little desperate and worried, when I heard my phone ring.

"Hi! your reference was given to me by Amit", the lady on the other side of the line who identified herself as Priya informed me. Amit was my brother who lived in Bangalore. "We sell some educational kits for teenagers. And Amit thought you would like it."

An educational kit was the last thing on my mind that day. And I told her so. I also told her that we had just relocated to Bangalore and it was more important for me that Ria got admission in a good school.

"Oh..! I am so sorry! Can you send me Ria's details? I would like to help," she said. We spent the next half an hour on the phone, talking about the various contacts that she had in the numerous schools.

From then on, she called me once a week to check on the progress of Ria's admission. 

I was surprised and touched. Priya's presence in my life, changed my mind from despair to hope. I did not know Priya before that call and I wondered why she went out of the way to help me.  With new found energy I continued applying for schools and eventually, Ria got into a school that could identify Ria's potential beyond the difference in  syllabus taught in the US and India schools. The school was also one of the best known schools in the city and very few children got admission to it. We all were ecstatic.

Earlier, I had also contacted the two schools that Priya had referred me to - though Ria did not get selected in those schools.

I had promised myself, that once Ria got into a good school, I would call Priya in for the demo of the product she had initially called me for. 

So as soon as Ria got in, I called Priya for a demo. The day Priya came in, I did not think much and told Priya that I would buy her product. My quick decision must have surprised Priya's husband. Which was why he asked her the question "What did you tell her the last time you spoke to her?"

But then for me, it was not about the product. It was about Priya. No money could ever buy the hope that Priya had placed in my heart that day. 

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Two conversations

There was a new Skoda Octavia in the neighbourhood. It was blue in colour and had all the latest functionalities. Our neighbour uncle, a sixty year old retired banker, threw a party when he bought the new car. We were given "just one turn" to ride it around and uncle seemed to beam with pride when people told him how smooth the ride was. His half concealed embarrassed smile showed how much he enjoyed the "wow!what a car!" We enjoyed the attention too - it was as if there was a new member into our community.

That night, after all the excitement, when we all sat together to have a quiet dinner, uncle confessed, "Let me enjoy life at this stage. What will I do with my money if I don't enjoy with it now?" We all agreed heartily!

Another favourite uncle of mine, a distant relative, was also due for a car change. I loved this uncle for his practical, down to earth tastes, simplicity and friendliness. The Zen that he drove though functional had become old with use and had started incurring a lot of maintenance costs. Uncle kept talking about buying a new car. All of us who knew him asked him to buy a big car, now that he was done with the small one. He definitely would be able to afford it. He would just laugh our request off.

One day, on a silent Sunday afternoon, as we sat drinking a hot cup of tea sitting in the veranda of his house, I asked him jokingly which car was he thinking of buying. He thought for a while and looked at me in the eye and said with a smile, " Innovaa" Wow! I thought and teased him.. "Innovaaa...!!" “Down-to-earth tastes, uh!” I thought, smiling to myself.

"Yes.. " he said.. "If I buy a new car, I might as well buy something that can take the whole family in. At-least we can all go out together on rides. "

I couldn’t say anything after that.

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The grace of "taking"

"Why does mom get me Nisha's dresses?" I thought looking at the neatly spread white colored frilly gown spread on my bed. Nisha was mom's best friend's daughter and older to me by one year. Sometimes mom would get me  dresses that Nisha had out grown. Though most of the dresses were pretty, hardly worn and well preserved, I would always cringe at the thought of wearing someone else's dress. Mom would never understand what the fuss was about and would always brush me aside.

As I stood there in confusion, I heard the gate open. It was Radha! Radha was our maid's 16 year old daughter and once in a while when  Radha had a off at school she would come home to help her mother out. Radha was around four years older to me and two years younger to Didi. Radha's mother had worked with us since my childhood and even though Didi and Radha had a lesser age difference, Radha and me connected more. She would humor me, play around with me, guide me and sometimes take me around. I loved being with her. And knowingly or unknowingly I learnt a lot about life from watching her silent, well mannered conduct and mannerisms.

That day, Radha asked me if I would like to visit her at her home. I willingly agreed and with my mother's permission we walked the one km to her house. Her house was a small place in the near by low income housing community. It had one small room that served as drawing room, bedroom etc. and a kitchen. The stuff in the room though old and worn out looked warm and clean. One side of the room was a Godrej cupboard and on another side was a small TV. I recognized the TV instantly - it was our old one! I smiled. I looked around a little more - the room had two old cane stools and a old diwan. I remembered they too had come from our house.

I looked at Radha. She was beaming - ear to ear. "Come, sit! Sit..!" She said as she took a old cloth out and wiped the torn cushions on the cane stool. "I will bring you a glass of lemon juice" she said and ran inside the kitchen. She was a simple pretty girl and the joy on her face made her look prettier.

I chatted with her for sometime and after an hour or so, we walked our way back to my home. Her sky-blue dupatta brushed my hand and I looked up. I noticed that she was wearing didi's old salwar kameez. It had been one of my favorites. Now didi had outgrown it and like many of didi's earlier dresses, she had passed this dress on to Radha. Honestly, I thought all the dresses suited Radha more than it suited didi.

I looked at Radha lovingly. She never ever complained that she had to wear another's dress.  I remembered the pride and pleasure we felt to see Radha looking so beautiful in didi's dresses. I remembered the stuff at Radha's home. How gracefully she and her family would accept what was passed on to them. I smiled as I held Radha's hand tightly.

Back in my house, I ran to my room to relate the day's events to didi. My gaze fell at the beautiful lacy white dress still lying on my bed. My face beamed with joy looking at the intricate laces.

I had no questions any longer and ran inside the bathroom to immediately try it on….

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Where did Murthy aunty's laughter go?

"You know Veena!" 65 year old Murthy aunty's voice was all animated. Her eyes were round and her expressive face was ready to share an "important" news. "The lady on the ground floor - she fights with her husband every evening for no reason. I sat with the lady and her husband and tried to make both of them see sense." And then with a satisfied proud look on her face she continued, "I think I was successful. But I cant help wonder why does the lady fight in the first place?" said Murthy aunty. 

Murthy aunty was this "all-friendly" neighborhood aunty. She was unbelievably talented and would easily manage functions and ceremonies organized in the apartment. And since she was so talented, she would want to make a difference in other people's lives too. However, I would find this very "caring" trait of hers a little interfering. But since she was very innocent and childlike, I would brush off her intrusions.

"Did you know about the Khannas downstairs?" Murthy aunty waited to watch the reaction on my face before she proceeded, "they have bought a two crore house in the heart of the city. They are planning to shift there in a month's time. However I am concerned about the children. I am not sure if the children will have a good company there. I have heard in that locality, people pretty much keep to themselves. I had a talk with Khanna. He asked me to not worry.. Lets see."

After a tired day, when I would walk down the garden with my daughter for our evening walks, I would spot Murthy aunty sitting on the garden chair. And as much as I liked the 15 minutes chat with her, I would honestly and sincerely wish that she would keep her thoughts to herself and not worry about people's matters. I would try to explain to her that people are power houses of energy and they were pretty much capable of solving their own situations. Once or twice when I had alluded to her that she might be interfering in people's life,  she had felt a little shocked and her eyes had filled with tears. I had let her be. I continued to enjoy the daily gossip along with my evening walks and would get back to my own life and world.

One particular day Murthy aunty was sitting on the garden chair looking a little forlorn. Apparently she had fought with one of her favorite sister-in-laws and she was lost for words. The pain that she was going through was very visible on her face. The next few days, she was unusually silent and somehow it looked as if this small incident had grown her up. 
She did not gossip too much and every time she spoke there was so much maturity in what she was saying. 

She sounded grown up and I should have been happy about it. But honestly I missed the old lively chattering aunt. I had never seen aunty so grim and I was concerned for her. But there was nothing much I could do and I let things be. Besides that weekend I was going on a long vacation to Mangalore with my family and that was more on my mind those days. 

I had a wonderful time at Mangalore and the day I came back from vacation, I met aunty again. The frantic wave of her hand showed me that she was excited. "You know I went to a party yesterday and the Sharmas and the Nairs were there. Sharma aunty and Nair aunty were avoiding each other." With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she added, "You know why? Nairs had proposed their daughter's hand in marriage to the Sharmas and even though Sharma uncle was OK about the proposal, Sharma aunty was not. Nair aunty had been very upset by that. hehehe :)" She was hardly able to speak out of excitement. Controlling her laugh, she continued, "The men had long forgotten about the proposal and were on one table with a glass of drink and laughing away. While the two women spent the whole evening avoiding each other. hahahaha " 

Murthy aunty was laughing so much by then, that she could barely stand. I myself couldn't suppress a small chuckle. I made her sit on the chair and smiled my way back my house. 

Murthy aunty was alive again. I knew that I no longer needed to worry about her.

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Uncle, Aunty and a hug

Mansi spotted them - uncle and aunty. They were sitting on one of the backseats of the marriage hall of a friend's wedding. She was seeing them after a good 15 years and she was happy to see the there. No. Happy would be an understatement. She was thrilled!

"15 years was a long time. The present day Mansi would be very different than the Mansi, aunty and uncle would remember," she thought. The families had stayed close to each other in Mysore. Uncle had been so much fun. He was in the forest department and when she was a little girl, he would regale Mansi and her sister with the stories of his adventures in the forest. Mansi's father and uncle got along very well and had been the best of friends.

Uncle had a daughter - Divya. Divya was a very active teenager - extremely good in studies and very involved in her extracurricular activities. And since she was such an active teenager, she was rarely visible at her home. Once she finished her studies, she got "campus-recruited" in a good position in one of the MNCs in Mumbai. Whenever Divya was in town, Mansi looked forward to meeting her. She was one of the most interesting teenagers she had met. They both got along very well and knew each other's deepest secrets. Divya was not the only reason she liked going to the house. She liked the family itself.

That day when Mansi saw uncle and aunty at the wedding function, she ran across the room, holding her two year old son's hand.

"HIII..." she called out.

To her surprise, the “hi” that was returned back was restrained.

She did not understand that. “Were they not happy to see her?"

"That expression must have been a mistake,” she said to herself and called them again.

"Hello!!!" she said as she waved her hand. "How are you both doing?"

Uncle and aunty gave back a restrained smile. "We are doing fine. Just fine." they seemed to say.

Uncle and aunty's facial expressions seemed to show regret along with some arrogance.

“Why were they sorry?” Mansi thought in confusion. Putting the thought aside, she pushed her son forward and said "Aunty, see my son!" She smiled widely hoping to see some of the old friendliness. She saw some more arrogance on their face.

That put Mansi back to reality. "Meet my husband," she said - this time with a peaceful smile. Her voice was back to normal by then and she had made peace with herself.

As Mansi sat with some time to herself, she thought over whatever she had heard about the family from her father. Uncle had long retired from the forest department. Divya had continued working in the company she had joined 15 years back and had by then grown to be in the top management of the company. Mansi herself, in contrast, was primary school teacher. She also remembered a bitter fight that had happened between Divya and her. There were things that had happened that had left Mansi deeply hurt but that was long back and she had long moved on.

As she remembered the regretful face of aunty, she couldn't help wondering with a little sadness, "What were they sorry for? For Divya? In spite of her good career, was she not leading a happy life?"

"Were they sorry for her that she did she not scale up to Divya’s professional achievements?"

"Or on second thoughts, were they still carrying the burden of the 15 year old incident?"

She shook her head in disbelief as she turned back to her son, who was calling her by then and felt bliss as she scooped him in her arms.

"Wish I could hug them both and get them to smile too," she thought as she playfully ran behind her son.

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39 years

"Do you love me?" I heard, sixty five year old Murthy aunty asking uncle. Uncle almost chocked and coughed at that. And then he replied, "Yes… I do". "If you do, let me go to my brother's house for a week," Aunty replied. I could hear the conversation through their slightly open bedroom door. I could only smile. I was staying at the Murthy residence in Chennai to attend a marriage function of a friend. Murthy uncle and aunty had been our neighbours at my parents' house. They have been close family friends for close to 30 years now.

Aunty came out after a while, muttering to herself and complaining to me. "He has grown so old and yet behaves so childish. We have spent 39 years of life together and yet some basic things have not yet changed. Even at this age I need to ask his permission to go to my own home. I am not going to any stranger's house. I am only going to my brother's place!" she said.

I nodded sympathetically at aunty, while suppressing my smile. But I was also overwhelmed. 39 years was a long long time. I have been married for 10 and I knew what a marriage was. For all the love, beauty and fun marriage is, it could be a real struggle sometimes. Marriage like any other commitment needed constant introspection and evolving. For a "young" marriage like mine, I atleast had the liberty to complain and compare with other couples every time I was faced with a conflict.

But 39 years is a longer time. It meant that uncle and aunty have been together for a far more years than the years they have been with the people who have brought them into this world. They have been each other’s friend and guide to the huge unknown maze called life. They have nurtured each other and grown in these 39 years.

Clang! Clung! I hear Uncle take food on his own noisily. I smile. I hear their bedroom door bang shut and another argument between the two of them behind the closed doors. I close my room’s door and go off to sleep. I know like all other conversations this one will get resolved too. After all I have never heard any argument between the two of them go beyond the night. Mornings were always a fresh start again.

" Kowsalya supraja Rama poorva sandhya pravarthathe... " I can hear the "suprabhatham" being sung on the CD player as I lazily rub my eyes. “Did you have your BP tablets?” I can hear the concern in his voice, as uncle calls out to aunty. I can hear morning coffee being lovingly placed on the coffee table in the drawing room. I shake myself awake. I lean against the drawing room window and watch the two of them.

Uncle has a newspaper in one of his hands, and a cup of coffee in the other. Aunty is enjoying the morning breeze as she is sipping the coffee sitting on the cane chair in front of uncle. They are smiling as they are talking to each other.

Love, comfort and peace was written all over their face.

"Soulmates and life-mates," I think.

I smile to myself.

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The thousand rupee note

"The management committee in our Netaji Subhash Chandra Government School, has decided to give a special prize this year. It is called "Special award" and will reward a extraordinary act done by a child. This year the award goes to eight year old Ananya. I would like to call Ananya's teacher to relate to you all what was the special act done by her," said our beautiful short motherly principal madam on the annual day function of our school. Of all the teachers in our school, the principal madam was the kindest.

"I am very happy to share Ananya's story with all of you," said Alka madam, our young, fair, tall class teacher, with a beatific smile on her face. Alka madam was wearing my favorite stiff white saree which had a blue lace on its border and small blue flowers on it. Her straight long hair reached her waist and was neatly combed and tied into a pony with a flowery clip. She looked taller and prettier than usual. She continued, "One fine afternoon Ananya returned from the playground, where she had gone in the Physical education period and came running up to me. She had a shining pink coloured pencil in one of her hands and  a "thousand rupee note" in the other.”

She paused for a second before she continued, “She gave me the note saying, she did not want it to be trampled by students walking and running over it. I was so proud of her honesty. I immediately nominated her for this award."

Alka madam then searched for me in the crowd and once she spotted me gave me a big smile. I smiled back. 

"Ananya's parents - Can you please come on the stage with Ananya?" 

I heard the thunderous applause as I went up the stage with my parents. I definitely seemed to have done something right.

After the function were the snacks. Rasgollas, pasteries and sandwiches lured me from various counters. It was my day. Ma and Babuji were ready to give me anything I asked. All the uncles, aunties and teachers looked at me with amazement as I walked and ran across the school campus. Ma was a sweeper in one of those big IT companies near our house and Babuji, a mechanic.

I looked for Bhaiyya who was eight years elder to me and studied in the twelfth standard. Bhaiyya was my friend, philosopher and guide. He was always cleanly dressed and the silent humility in his nature brought an extra glow on his face. He was the wise one in our house and supported and comforted our parents whenever they were in difficulty. When he was not at school, he was with my dad at his mechanic shop oiling or tinkering a few machines. He was my window into the world I did not understand. When I was not playing with friends, I tagged along with Bhaiyya on his old bicycle.

On some Sundays, Bhaiyya would take me on long rides on his bicycle. Together we would go into the unexplored areas of our city. We would go to the hidden lakes and unexplored forest areas behind our house. On our way back, we would always have a plate of ‘pani puri’.

"Anu! Anu!!" the familiar call of my brother snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned and rushed into my brother's open arms. My brother hugged me a congratulations. And then we made our way back home.

I sat on the pillion seat of Bhaiyya's bicycle as usual. That day Bhaiyya was walking with the bicycle instead of riding it. We were passing through a small road in a small residential area, when he turned towards me and said with a voice chocked with pride, "I am so proud of you Anu...” I continued licking the icecream which we had bought just a minute back.

When he did not hear a response from me, he turned a little more to face me directly and with eyes full of love said, “I am talking about the thousand rupee note incident..."

So many people had wished me by now. And now Bhaiyya too…I did not understand how to react...

So I asked him...."But Bhaiyya...I don't know what is all the excitement about..."

"I did not want a child to get scolded for losing a thousand rupee note the way mom scolded me last time when I lost a hundred rupee note.That was why I returned the note to madam." I paused for a while and lowered my voice and said,

"Honestly if it had been a twenty rupees, I might have taken Sahira with me and bought the both of us a huge bar of Dairy Milk Chocolate."

"What use is a thousand rupee note to me?"


And then I got back to licking my icecream. After I had gulped in a huge lump, I asked Bhaiyya to stop walking.I then turned him with one of my free hands and looked at him curiously and asked,

"Tell me Bhaiyya, what can I do with a thousand rupee note?"

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Twilight years...

“Come here.. ! Wipe the kitchen... then clean the utensils... !” She calls the maid as she is cooking the morning breakfast.

“Lakshmi... where are you... I need you to chop a few vegetables...” Priya can hear her Ma in law calling out the maid.

Priya was watching the interaction as she sat sipping the morning tea, “Why is she monitoring the maid so much. The maid can take a decision. The job that she calling for is her routine one”

“I don’t believe in over monitoring…” thinks Priya.

“Lakshmi... the baby is crying...” Priya can here the voice again...

“Priya...you need to watch over the maids...they have become very lazy...”

“Hmm… Hmm...” Priya mutters. Her expressions clearly show that she doesn’t agree with it. Before she can reply back, she hears,“You need to keep the baby’s utensils clean. And you should drink a lot of water…”

Priya frowns at that. “I know that. I can think for myself. Does she think I can’t take the right decisions? Why does she have to advise me so much? Why doesn’t she let me be?”

“Can you tell Lakshmi that she needs to work for an extra half day tomorrow? We need her help to clean up the house. She will listen to you – she tends to ignore me.” Ma tells Priya, with a voice really soft. Priya can see the silent request in her voice.

Priya’s face is curious. “Wonder why does she think the maids will listen to me better? She is the older one. They will definitely listen to her.”

Ma then sits to work on her crosswords. “Which is the only animal that lays eggs? Is it the Platypus?”

Priya goes blank in ignorance. And then Priya’s face lights up in admiration. Ma's intelligence still surprises her. Priya mumbles an “I dont know...”

And then, Priya looks a little closely. She sees a bright face. Ma’s and Pa’s had been a love marriage. She can see why. “Ma’s beauty can still flutter a few hearts,” she thinks with a smile.

She notices the prominent grey veins in Ma's hand. She remembers the umpteen stories of gratitude told to her by the relatives of how Ma in her younger days, had been host to multiple family functions. People in the family, still like to call her whenever there is a marriage or a pooja in their house. After all she knows all the rituals of the house by heart.

She has brought up her two children to become an engineer and a doctor. She has lived through life and yet managed to retain the life in her.

She is now staying with Priya and her husband, who is one of her sons. There isn’t much work to do. There is a cook and a maid. Priya takes care of the baby and of course there is Lakshmi to help. Much as she tries to help around, there is not much to do. There is nobody to guide – What with, internet taking the place that traditionally belonged to the wise and the elder.

Sudoko and Crosswords don’t occupy her completely. Priya can see her Ma in law now. She sees a lady, who is missing being in action, who is missing being the center of the universe of her family.

Priya turns back to look at the dosa batter that she is pouring in to the dosa-pan. In childish desperation and with a childlike curiosity, she asks Ma with a smile... “Damn.. ! my dosas always stick on the pan... What can I do about it...?”

Ma’s face brightens up. The gleam in her eyes is visible. “Oh! That's easy... sprinkle a little water on the pan... and then pour the batter. There you are! all set! Crisp thin dosas... !”

Priya sneaks a glance at Ma. She sees happiness written all over her face.

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