Vikram Samvat 2079 has hardly moved into 2nd gear, and I have started writing this piece. Mummy has been gone 38 years, but Anju and I refer to her at least 10 times a day in routine conversations, but papa who left us 11 years ago is talked about may be 2-3 times a week! The numbers are quite natural. Mummy had a profound impact on our daily lives, whereas papa tuned our long term lives. Both were living role models for both of us. Mummy’s voice rings in our heads whether it be the kitchen, cooking, respect for food and management thereof, care of clothes, knitting, sharing homework, alter rituals, Ravi’s upbringing, Vaidehi’s post-natal wellbeing, alerting our daughters to festivals and other such social mores, recycling, and social interactions and responsibilities, behaviour with our helpers and infinite such home and hearth and unspoken women power topics, it was both mothers all the way! One of her key injunctions to us was repeated by us at least 3 times a week! “A Person is not loved, her/his work is loved”. Looses it’s power in translation, though! But she lived every moment of her life on this principle. Papa’s impact has been simply woven into our lives, and would be seen and heard just occasionally but everywhere in our lives. Step out of our building, and our ears perk up as we catch a magpie robin’s call from the rain tree a few feet away, as our eyes search for the caller in the foliage above us. Even as we drive along, we would notice that a roadside mango tree has been cut, and an excited, “ashok tree in full bloom near Bedok junction” would fill our car. Hey, the hornbill pair are here, but you were sleeping! Yeah, but that call registers even in sleep. Hindi film playback artists come and go after concerts, and we are blissfully unaware, but tickets were often bought for Hindustani classical recitals. Our family is 5 ½ strong – Ravi has arrived just a year ago, so qualifies as half ticket – but we have 12 camera’s and 10 lenses, rings, a dozen filters and photographs in their tens of thousands! Pappa was probably just one of three or four amongst his circle of friends to use a 120 sized film camera, and possibly just one of two who used one with tele-lenses! And this then, is our heritage of photographs and negatives from 1935-40 onwards! Our vacation planning begins with what has the place got to offer in terms of nature? I had one spare day in New York, and I visited only Central park, and in 7 days in Cape town, we did not visit the town at all! Only the surrounding mountains, sea and migratory colonies. Singapore salary eased the resources pressure, especially when visiting Bombay. I landed up at Rhythm House, and for the first time in my life picked up a basket to buy music cassettes. Ten of classical music to 4 of old film songs! One memory deeply engraved in my mind is going to RangBhavan, buying the cheapest ticket for the last row to hear Mallikarjun Mansur’s programme. Speakers took care of hearing well, but binoculars in hand to see him and his expressions as he sang! This is my father’s heritage!
The human mind and it’s built in psychology is such that the passing of a parent causes a bit of unreal gasp. Who will I turn to? Whose wisdom will keep me safe? This is particularly true of cultures where elders and ancestors are venerated – as in India. Who will tell me “don’t worry, I am here for you!”? The parent may be aged and or in poor health, but their mere existence in one’s life are a source of a feeling of wellbeing. On their passing, one feels a little lonely, a bit adrift socially. One looks for another uncle or aunt from our parent’s generation, whose wisdom and experience would give us emotional strength. One soon realises that such elders could be counted on one finger, and that we ourselves are on the threshold being an “elder”! Am I wise enough? Experienced enough to be a valued elder? Did the previous generation have such thoughts as well? Or were they more accepting of roles handed to them by tradition, and were more trusting that “Ishver” knows what He is doing, and just carry on?
Our girls grew up, one migrated to Sydney, birthed a son, and we grandparents quickly regressed to our own childhood, and quickly learnt to cackle and hoot to entertain our grandson. Slowly we have started recognising that we too are being labelled as “elders”! Now I understand what drove my aunt to often say “May it be as ‘Ishver’ wills it”!
પહેલું પાનું The Beginning