Who really died?

It had been almost a month since I had visited Babu’s ashram for the elderly. It had kind of become a weekly ritual to carry food for the elderly who stayed there. Or rather had been forced to stay there. My association with the ashram began about a year ago.

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Mr. and Mrs. Iyer lived in the house across our apartment. Iyer Uncle, as we called him, was very fond of the flower beds he had planted himself on the entire periphery of his house. It had become customary to exchange pleasantries as we went for our morning walk every day. Uncle would be watering his plants and listening to his booming voice would mark the beginning of our day.

A year ago his wife passed away leaving uncle all alone in their sprawling house. As long as she had been there, we would see them sitting on the veranda, sharing biscuits over a cup of coffee every evening. She had been a perfectionist, taking caring of all his needs. But with her no longer around, their three married children had been quite reluctant to look after their aging father and decided the next best thing would be to put him in an old age home. When we heard the news, we went to meet uncle. We saw him sitting on his rocking chair, eyes closed, and cheeks awash with tears. “Will you water my plants for me when I am gone?” he asked. “I don’t want them to be orphaned like me.”

That was all he was thinking of now? His plants? It brought a lump to my throat and I nodded, unable to speak. And then he wept like a child, his booming voice echoing through the house. It was heart wrenching to see a 75 year old weep like that before you.

That’s how uncle was unceremoniously bundled of to the ashram by three well-to-do children whom he had brought up so lovingly. To watch a movie on this theme or read about it in the papers is different and to see it actually happening is quite another. No words can describe what it is to see ungrateful children treating a parent with so much disrespect.

 And that’s how our association with the ashram began. At first it had been to just visit uncle and keep him company. Later we decide to prepare something every Sunday for all the 35 inmates. We would always be greeted at the gate by Gopi uncle and his flag. He would salute us and then run around the whole place waving his flag. Most inmates looked senile and it worried us if Iyer uncle had been put in the right place. The warden told us that most of them had been fine when they came there but over a period of time, loneliness and depression at having been forsaken by their own families had caused senility to set in. We wondered if Iyer uncle would meet the same fate.

We saw his health deteriorate over the next few months so we shifted some of his plants and his rocking chair to make him feel at home. But no amount of cheering seemed to help him. I was going out of town and I told him that I will see him after a month.

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I had been readying to go to the ashram after a month of vacation when I met my neighbor at the gate.

“Going to the ashram?” she asked.

“Yes, I haven’t been there in more than a month now,” I told her.

“Iyer uncle passed away when you weren’t here” she told me.

I couldn’t believe what she said. I wanted to know more. She told me how sometime last month, Iyer uncle had run away from the ashram, and was found by an auto rickshaw driver while trying to jump off a lake. He had calmed uncle and brought him home. His children were informed and instead of comforting their father they had screamed at him for running away like that. He had passed away a couple of days later in sleep, not having eaten anything for the past two days. We wondered whether he died from hunger of food or love.

I took one last long look at uncle’s house, his plants all dried out and the house resounding with the emptiness that he had been carrying for such a long time in his heart. It made me think who really died? And no, it was not just a person.

May he rest in peace.

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(Coming after my previous post, it would have been surprising to read two similar stories....but this had been weighing on my heart for quite some time and I think 100 words haven't been sufficient for me to express my anguish. Hence this post.)

  

Your call..

She looked up and spotted the familiar face from sit out on the first floor of Babu’s old age home.  She smiled. You couldn’t miss that man-child even if you wanted to.

He picked up his end of the tin-can telephone, ‘What’s that, Meera? That?’ pointing to her bag.

 ‘I’ve got some food for all of you.’ She spoke into the other end.

‘Food? For me? I’m hungry, very hungry. I want food.’ He climbed on the railing, in an attempt to reach her, still holding the tin-can telephone.

‘No, stop uncle. I’ll come upst…..’ 

But it was too late.

The week that was(n't) !!

The bug bit me last week. No, no, not the love variety, the tummy one, and there it stayed for next few days, making me holler in pain and confined to the bed! This Atithi definitely did not fit into the devo bhava category, instead it belonged to that shameless breed of guests who stayed put in spite of trying to pump it out with all the ammunition money could buy!  

All I needed was a little love and the boys ensured that I got lots of it. Hubby dearest (HD) took me by surprise offering to 'take care of everything' so that I could get that much needed rest. Was I touched? You bet! If you looked closely you could even see that just-about-to-trickle-down drop of tear in my almond shaped eyes!

I actually felt a little guilty of ‘hubby bashing’ on various platforms where I had unabashedly talked about  HD’s non-existent cooking skills, going to the extent of pointing out how he was capable of burning even water! And here he was offering to 'take care of everything' while I rested. What a sweetheart he was, I told myself. How could I have been so mean?

I let myself be tucked into bed, breathing easy for the first time that week.

‘What’s for breakfast?’ I asked, still wondering what he would pull of his magician’s hat.

‘I think idly would be good for you, it’s light and easy on the tummy…’he began, leaving me with my mouth so wide open, that my elder one actually needed to use both his hands to shut it close.

Idly! Did he actually think that idlies just flew out of somewhere? I pictured myself washing, soaking and grinding the ingredients and waiting with crossed fingers to see if the batter finally ‘rose’ to  make those soft and fluffy little things that just melted in your mouth. Just imagining the procedure took me back 24 hours!  How in the world was he planning to make them now?

The medications had started making me feel a little groggy and I drifted into a lovely world of fluffy white trees that looked like idlies standing by a river that looked a huge stream of sambhar, onions bobbing by instead of fish! And there I was trying to pluck out the idlies, jumping unsuccessfully, till I blanked out. Opening my eyes, I find the three familiar smiling faces waiting for me to get up, and a plate of idlies sitting tight on the bedside table.

As I stared at HD in disbelief, he put a loving arm around me, ‘Anna’s hotel next street? He makes great idlies, I got it hygienically packed for you.’ 

Wow! And here I am fretting about breakfast every day. That ought to be the simplest chore of the day! ‘So, where are you ordering lunch from?’ I asked my voice tinged with sarcasm.

‘I am making lunch’ he announced grandly, ‘you eat this and take rest’ he said as he fed me the idly that he had so painstakingly produced.  

My head refused to sink into the pillow this time, as it was already approaching lunchtime and I could see no preparations whatsoever even beginning to happen. I could not stop myself from sauntering jauntily into the kitchen to oversee what was happening there. 

Nothing? 

Nothing! 

The deafening silence of kitchen was a little too much to bear and I felt my tummy churning wildly like the day ‘samudra manthan’ happened and the gods and demons churned the ocean to get their goodies. Only this time there would be no Shiva to drink the poison that came out of the ocean! Where in the world was my masterchef?

Ah! There he was tapping furiously onto his laptop, a cursory what-are-you-doing-out-of-bed glance at me. ‘You need something?’ he asked barely looking up. I am sure he did not see my hands fold up and rest on my hips, neither the look on my face.

‘I don’t, but the kids will need some food on their plates soon.’ The poison had begun to flow out. Then Shiva appeared magically in the form of HD’s smile and lapped up all that poison. 

‘But lunch’s almost ready’ he said flooring me as I stood there looking like a fool. ‘I’m working from home just for you,’ he says stressing on the ‘you’ part making me feel even more guilty, ‘let me just send a few mails and I’ll lay the table’.

Just as I was about to retreat back to the kitchen to check on where the lunch has been hiding, pat comes out a little request, ‘since you are here, just soak the rice, will you, I’ll come and keep the cooker.’

Before the ‘samudra manthan’ starts happening again, I decide to just soak the rice and wait for him to show up. I made a mental note to sue those guys who show us those impeccable hubbies on TV who not just cook a six course meal before the wife is home, and keep the kitchen sparkling clean, but also smile when the wife chides him for using the wrong cleaning agent!

The ticking clock threatens to churn my tummy once again, so in goes the rice into the cooker and on goes the whistle. On the count of three whistles, when I just turned off the gas stove, HD appeared as if by magic, ‘you needn’t have done all this, I said I’ll take care.’ He said escorting me back to bed. ‘I’ll get your lunch in the room.’

As I sit scratching my head wondering if there’s anything for lunch at all, he brought me a plate of curd rice. ‘This is lunch?’ I asked, my eyes popping out in disbelief.  I know the kids hate curd rice and I was already feeling sorry for them.

‘No, this is for you; curd is good for your tummy.’

‘And…?’ I asked, dying to know what the boys are having for lunch.

‘The sambhar that came with morning’s idly and the bhaji that came with the dosa’ a guilty pause, (these guys had dosa? And all I got was that measly idly?) ‘We’ll have that with rice.’ ‘Actually I have chopped up some salad too.’

Good lord!

I finished the curd rice in stunned silence, leaving the boys alone to finish their lunch.

‘In case you are wondering what’s for dinner…’ he asked as he came back to collect my plate.

‘I know you’ll manage’ I said not letting him finish, as I sank into the bed pulling the sheets up, covering my face. 

I don’t even want to know!

Mother's day wishes from my little ones....

For once words fail me, so I'll let the pictures do the talking!!

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