Sweet Blessings

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 25^th 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