Homeward bound.

Have you ever wondered why the good things in life often follow the bad or the not so pleasant? Is this God’s way of making up with us or telling us that there is a price we pay for each good thing that comes our way? Or is this a way to restrain our unbridled enthusiasm and happiness that otherwise could lead us to our very own destruction?  I didn’t have answers to these questions – and didn’t really hope to find them either – as I reclined in the backseat of our blue Mini Cooper and stared up at the street lights rushing past as Soumya drove back from Blackpool. Our holiday had been cut short by the news that my father was no more.

Tim and Tot had slowly drifted into a troubled heap near my feet after spending the past two hours wiping away the tears from my face.

Deep in my heart I was happy that I was not there to see him go. I wanted to remember him as he was when we last met – strong, silent and confident.  The unshakable pillar in our lives. Not the shadow of the man that I once knew and loved more than anyone or anything else in the world. The passing of time had taken its toll on his indomitable spirit. His flesh had turned weak and three strokes had rendered him speechless and immobile.  In a strange sort of way, his passing had brought a sense of calm to my harried nerves, and no doubt to everyone who truly loved him. The days, months and years of pining, of waiting and suffering had come to an end. He had now found the peace that he so longed for and which we all prayed for. The spirit had been returned to the source.

“Soumya”, I said softly as I continued to stare at the light bulbs flashing by, “can we go home?”

“We are Manju.”

“I know, but I don’t mean this home Soumya, I mean home!”

“India?”

“Yes. Even if it’s for a couple of days. I believe we owe this to our sons. How will they feel if they never really get to know their grandparents? Their country? Or their culture? Over the past three years both of our father’s have expired. Wouldn’t it be terrible for them if our mother’s too were to leave us behind?”

Soumya did not answer immediately. He continued to stare out on to the road ahead. Manjula, unknowingly and unwittingly, had touched upon a thought that had coursed through his mind as well. Wasn’t this – the tangled web of relationships that they had left behind in India – a legacy that they needed to hand down to their sons? It had been 13 long years since either Manjula or he had set foot in their respective homes. Much had changed. And the recent spate of bad news had made him terribly nostalgic and homesick. If this could happen to Manjula’s father, a man he silently admired for his strength and courage, what could happen to his mother or Manjula’s mother or to themselves for that matter with the passing of time?

“Let’s think about it. Flying to India for a vacation – even for  a couple of weeks – will need a lot of planning and money.  It is also dependent on my getting leave from work.  But then, it definitely is worth considering. ”

I knew from his answer that the germ of the idea had found support somewhere in his mind. That is all I needed for the moment to keep my spirits intact.

As I found myself drifting between slumber and deep thought, I found my mind slowly moving on to thoughts of what had been and what we would possibly see if and when we went back now. My sisters had, from the sound of the letters they wrote and the photographs they sent, grown up to be beautiful, measured and intelligent. My brother, handsome and enterprising. Soumya’s siblings too and their children – to whom he was greatly attached – would have changed considerably since we met them last. His mother, my mother – and there I stopped. I couldn’t get myself to visualise her without her customary bold streak of vermilion in her hair and big warm smile that seemed to start around the corner of her eyes and light up her entire face. The rich filigree of her silk saree would now change to delicate thread work on a bland white cotton base.  As would be the case with his mother. The tears started rolling silently down my cheeks once again.  And soon I was asleep.

“Ranga-di, let go!”, I yelled out to my sister Arati, “this is a fight you can’t win!”

“Why should I? This dress is mine and no monkey can take it from me!”

Arati and I had climbed up to the terrace that hot, sultry afternoon during one of our longish visits to Madhupur to find a monkey had taken a fancy to one of Arati’s bright flower printed dresses that had been washed and put out to dry. Rushing toward the monkey, Arati had taken hold of the dress and was trying to wrestle with it to let go.

“Let go, you ape! This is mine!”

The moneky seemed to disagree and soon, before my eyes, a virtual tug-of-war match had ensued. After a couple of minutes and much shrieking on all sides, the monkey decided to put matters to rest. It reached out and slapped Arati right across her face. I watched aghast as it wrenched the dress from her hands and made off to the nearest tree. As the tears steamed down our faces – Arati’s in pain and mine in disbelief – we watched the monkey put on the dress and turn to us in a sure show of victory.

We rushed downstairs to tell our parents what had transpired.

“Ma, Ma..! look at what happened!” I said pointing toward my sister’s crimson red cheek. “A monkey just slapped Ranga-di“ 

Just as we were about to reach the bottom step, I tripped and fell. Arati, who was holding on to my hand, also fell – on top of me.  Through the puddle of blood that started streaming from my nose and the tears running down my cheeks, I noticed my mother and father rushing toward us leaving my son’s Tim and Tot playing on the bed.

“Manjula…Manjula…we’re home”, Soumya said as he gently shook me out of my slumber.

As we walked up the steps to our house with our children in our arms, we knew it was time to seriously consider where we wanted to be and what we wanted to do.

Life gives us many choices not many of which are easy to make. Should we choose to live life for ourselves or for our parents? For now or tomorrow? For our children or for their future? As usual, these were questions I didn’t have an answer to. Well, for the moment at least…

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