There is always something different about Sundays. I feel Sundays carry an air of luxurious leisure, a holiday mood builds up and fills one’s heart with renewed energy and zest. I remember one such Sunday in 2010. I was in my Lakeland home, near Tempa in Florida. That Saturday I missed my childhood friend Rima Sen, who had gone to visit her Uncle in Orlando. Those days both Rima and I were applying for jobs after our post graduation in economics. Rima had also finished her M.B.A. Somehow thinking about Rima’s lovely face and our future together I had fallen asleep.
Next morning when I opened my eyes I got up and walked towards our front garden. I noticed a large American squirrel disappear in the bushes. We had only one large old oak tree, two young apple trees and tulsi shrubs creating a border of sorts. The two flower beds had white and yellow chrysanthemums in full bloom. Suddenly I noticed the Sunday times newspaper lying on the front steps.
After a quick shower, when I walked into our drawing room. I found my grandmother’s photograph had a new garland of fresh flowers. The constant chant of Gayatri Mantra filled the room. Aroma of sandalwood ‘Agarbatti’ and a lamp or ‘diva’ was lit near the photograph. I then realized it was my Grandmother’s birthday.
I found my Dad sitting on the sofa staring at his mother’s (My Grandmother’s) photograph with tearful eyes. I realized, he had the same sharp features as my Grandmother in the photograph.
I looked at my mother, who walked in with a tray, full of three teacups. She beamed in her new blue satin Hongkong gown with a floral print. Mom has a grand presence and a proud look, unlike my Dad who has a humble look, who loves his modest Kolhapuri chappals, Khadi Kurta Pyjama and home made ghee.
My mom is very fair, pleasantly plump with a sharp tongue and piercing black eyes. She is very proud of her new Hongkong gown, diamond earrings and hush puppies slippers. She always looks well groomed and stylish in her branded clothes. Dad’s education, a good job and good looks had given him a pretty and rich bride from Mumbai. As a couple Mom and Dad are very different from each other but they have a successful arranged marriage. Dad continues loving old Hindi movie songs & Ganga Sati Bhajans while Mom loves to see new movies and do shopping, loves imported perfumes & branded clothes.
Sweet smells of morning nashta like, ‘muthia’ or ‘thepla’ when pervades the house, it sets our appetite on fire. Mom is a fabulous cook so usually on Sunday mornings. Mom would often scold us, she would say in a annoyed tone, ‘You two get up and get going instead of lolling around’ Dad would look at her, amused and often say “A school teacher is always a school teacher!” and laugh. Then we would all laugh. But this Sunday everything was different. Mom was not her chirpy self, she was quiet and lost in deep thought.
Yes, my mom had taught Maths in a school before she got married. She always looked for harmony, order and perfection. Like a typical school teacher she overvalued discipline while my Dad and I are basically tree spirits.
I looked at Dad and said ‘I don’t remember ‘Daadi’, tell me something about her ‘Dad looked at me said ‘Your Daadi’ was one in a million. She was great. We are all here today and its all because of her.
Then Dad said “My Father, meaning your Grandfather Jayantbhai was a small time bootlegger who sold both Desi and English Daaru (liquor). He was very smart and bright. He knew how to handle the hi-fi customers. He also knew some English. As his own Father that is my Grandfather died early of a heart attack, he had to unfortunately leave school, So he took over the liquour business which flourished many fold, So we bought a new house. But Madhavkaka who was our neighbour got jealous and got him murdered. I was shocked to hear these words! then Dad said, “I remember it was a Diwali night and someone from our basti identified his body on the road near the bridge. It was a horrible night, the police arrived and there was utter shock and chaos around. Your Grandmother fainted with grief. As days passed, she seemed to have calmed down but silently wept most of the time. After a few days, after all the rituals were over and all relatives had left us. One night while serving dinner to us, Maa suddenly declared, “We are leaving this wretched place forever” I was shocked. “Where are we going?” I asked ‘And Maa, what about the revenge? We all know who did it’ I said and waited for her reply. She thought for a moment and then said. ‘Hitesh beta you and Jiga (Jignesh) listen to me. What do we attain by revenge? Are we criminals like them? Will your father come back? Their people may then kill me. The police might send them to jail but if I am no more what happen’s to both of you? No-no! We will not get into this useless revenge chakkar (cycle) We will just leave this place and start a new life’. I was stunned by her words. I was twelve years old and Jiga was only five then. But I had understood every word of what Maa had said and knew she was right. I waited for her words. Slowly, she said’ We are going to Nizampura near your Gopal Mama’s (uncle’s) house. I have already talked to him. He has found a room on rent for us. Everything is settled. I’m going to work as a cook at his Narayan Sheth’s bungalow. Your Gopal mama has fixed that job for me. As you know your Gopalmama and your Surajmami live in Narayan Sheth’s out house. He works there as their driver and he say they are nice and kind people she added.
We have to get out from this disgusting place with drunken fools and murderers, living all around us! Mom you’re absolutely right ‘I said to her, even though I did feel a bit sad about leaving my friends in the old basti. I now remember my Gopal Mama was a simple soul, a bit vain about his good looks, very proud of his broken English and forover smiling and combing his hair, but very honest, hardworking and totally devoted to Narayan Sheth’s family. Even Sheth’s wife Kokilaben liked Gopal mama and Suraj Mami. Their son Mukeshbhai and daughter Kinjalben too were very fond of us. They would get new kites for us every year and would always let us watch their T.V. in their house.
Gopal Mama’s wife was short tempered, buxom young attractive woman. She was a nonstop talker. Every evening she sold flowers near the Amba Mata temple. Being childless, She showered us with all her love, but maintained a respectful distance from my Maa. Much later after many years they had a daughter and a son. We children thought Suraj Mami had a heart of gold.
“How did Grandmother die” I asked Dad, “She was knocked down by a govt. bus near Dakore. She used to visit Dakore on every “Poonam” for Darshan of the Lord Ranchodji and pray for us.” Dad answered my question with a sad, wistful look in his eyes. Then he spoke again he said “Later when I started working after I finished my law studies. Narayan Sheth’s son Mukeshbhai had helped us with the immigration papers. Shethji gave us money for travel. We also sold off the house built by your Grandfather as Maa was no more. We had six months left for us to leave for U.S.A. when suddenly we received compensation money from the govt. as it was accidental death in your grandmother’s case. Your Mom very wisely bought some gold and kept aside some money for Jiga’s education who was in first year of college and now we are here” said Dad and fell silent.
I thought about our life near Gopal Mama’s house in India. I remembered how we often played in Narayan Sheth’s back verandah and did our home work there while Maa cooked in their kitchen. I did little jobs for Shethani like carrying her clothes for istri (ironing) getting Calcutti Pan for her, bringing in the morning newspapers etc. I even did the early morning job of distributing newspapers in different areas to help Maa. Jiga helped me sometimes but played most of the time and was full of pranks and was always caught plucking fruits from Narayan Sheth’s garden. But Jiga was always forgiven as he took great care of Shethani’s Dog ‘Tiger’ who was a handsome German Shepherd Dog and apple of her eye. Even though Tiger was a good natured, gentle giant most people outside were scared of him. Now when I think of our life there I realize that our life had really changed for better then what it had been, in our old basti.
Then Dad spoke again he said ‘Maa often said that she was proud of us. But few mothers do what she did for us. Without any formal education she struggled to give us a good life. Gopal Mama too helped us and together they bravely carved a new path for us. She was going to join us here after a month but she was gone forever. Even after her death she left a gift for us……..that compensation money……….and he could not speak further. Now Dad had tears streaming down his cheeks. I had never seen my Dad crying like this, and I sat shaken inside and I realized that I was dying to tell all this to Rima when, I would meet her the next day when she would return from Orlando.
- Sumati Gangopadhyay
