Sweet Blessings!
Yesterday I got home quite exhausted.
Could hear the journalists enjoying their short
lived popularity and time in front of the camera – fighting
for their space and attention in a people’s channel on TV. She was all
ears. She looked pristine in her freshly
dry cleaned grey cotton saree. She had a
soft woollen grey shawl draped around her feeble yet strong shoulders. She was happy that I was home. She offered to
make me a cup of tea saying ‘ aaj meri haath ki chai peele, me achchi chai
banati hu’. Grateful and thankful for the offer, I brew hot steaming Darjeeling tea and as the reporters shout and cry over the state
election results we rejuvenate over the flavonoid laden elixir.
Mrs Hema Joshi, my octogenarian mother–in–law
from Dehradun is a well read woman in
love with Bengali literature , an intellectual
and an artist with
an amazing way with ink and graphite. She has great culinary skills and
is an epitome of feminine presence. She was a
teacher – a career woman until she was
married off to my father- in – law in not so far away Himachal Pradesh
where she settled into her domestic role of wife, mother and daughter- in law! She took charge of the
household like no other.
Met her in 1997 and I have to accept the fact that we
challenged the science of First Impressions. Let me explain – I was not in that
age and space to impress. I have blatantly and bluntly been myself to my
advantage and disadvantage. She wasn’t
either. When you look at people through the smoke screen of religion, race,
community and caste people do appear distorted and disfigured. Guess that is
what was working here more than anything else. Her underlying OCD of hygiene
and cleanliness was magnified as I saw
her unwillingness to touch doorknobs and
light switches. Her obsession with daily ablutions and creating laundry
lines in wardrobes beat me to my own game of understanding human behaviour.
Gone are the days of happy joint families as career dreams have scattered
many people into the urban madness with aging parents staring at walls and OLed
TV screens in customised home theatres. No! we are not that unfortunate. Neither have we been swallowed by the urban rat nor do we have
customised home theatre. We still believe in chit chatting and engaging in human interactions as we mix
vegetable curry and yellow dal with white rice over dinner. It is that time of the year when she visits us - and we have aunty sitting at the head of the
table – fussing over the food in front of her. It is okay because she has been
fussing over food ever since I know her. An old friend of mine ( literally so,
because Betsy is 88 !) once said “ If you want to live a long life , you have to eat like a bird”. Aunty is
doing the right thing but I do get to coax and cajole her to binge eat.
It is definitely not just Vitamin D she soaks in – as
she sits in the miniscule green lawn outside. She reads, looks at the passer-bys
– the tiny tots going to play school, is happy to see the yellow butterfly
dancing over the little patch of kitchen greens! Nidhi comes over greeting us
with her big smile and occasionally Sia
joins us – she is a cherub- like baby tripping and falling , smiling and cooing
- learning the ways of the world!
It is such a delight to see Rahul doting over his
mother. He loves her to bits and it is so obvious. He makes sure that she is
absolutely comfortable in our little home pad. Our weekend outings with her,
the occasional breakfast at ‘Banana leaf’ where the mundu clad waiters serve
piping hot South Indian fare followed by the cool tender coconut dessert. Family time with the children, books, TV time, long
telephonics with her siblings,
story –telling ,trips here and there for fresh air and some dose of
social interactions keeps her busy.
My once very cordial relationship with her has evolved
into this very unsaid and unspoken comfortable space for both of us. She might
not tell me but I know. Years have rolled by and the differences have faded
into something so insignificant. This is more of a relationship based on
respect and trust rather than a relationship that has merged out of my marriage
to Rahul.
I was missing home this Christmas ( the longing to be
home with my old but young at heart parents was painful) – I reassured my grown up self that it is okay to be away sometimes. On 25th
of December we all headed to the Red Church
for the Christmas service. As I looked across to the familiar frail frame seated amid the celebrants – I
bowed my head down in thankfulness and gratefulness to the mother who gave me
her most wonderful son. Hugged her long
and close probably for the first time in my life – my Christmas is meaningful!
I am blessed to have her in my life. I am blessed to
see the love of his mother in Rahul’s eyes. I am blessed abundantly to have frail hands bless me as I touch her feet. As her
shaky fingers smear the ‘pithiya’ ( red
vermilion) on my forehead – I allow the
blessings to permeate me and give me the long and strong life that she has
lived,the quiet authority and dignity - and an appetite of a bird!!!!
P.S As for all the people who think I am weird because
I call her ‘aunty’. Just a reminder – that it does not really matter. I guess we
both have achieved what really matters !
04, January 2019
