Happy Birthday Ma

(This is a soliloquy of a daughter talking to her sick mother who is lying for almost a year in a state that can at best be described as between life and death. The song from Tare Zameen Pe has been slightly modified to suit the tale.)

It was my birthday Ma some months ago and as usual I walked into your room at midnight hoping you might just open your eyes for a while and wish me. But you lie still, covered with a bed sheet, eyes closed and two pipes of life- one to feed you through the nose and the other for left over. The night sister looked at me and nodded her head right to left a couple of times and I returned to my room.

It’s been eleven months Ma that you’ve gone all still and silent. Time has moved from my birthday to yours, a couple of days from now. They say you’re living with a heart that beats and lungs that breathe. But I know this is no living. They also say I am living too. But I know everyday doing nothing but getting things ready for you, waiting for my daughter’s call and hubby’s return home, all alone throughout the day with no future to dream of. I know this is no living either.

I pray for your death almost everyday, Ma. I am a bad daughter who prays like this but I can’t see you suffer any more. I pray you depart soon and depart peacefully knowing fully well that after you, I will be very lonely. What will I do after you’re no more…for my life for the last nine years has solely revolved around your medicines, treatment, care and needs. There will be a big void and surely a lonely life ahead of which I do fear.

Main Kabhi Batlaati Nahi,

Par Akelepan Se Darti Hoon Main Maa,
Yuun To Main Dikhlaati Nahi,

Teri Parwaah Karti Hoon Main Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata, Hai Na Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata... Meri Maa

As I see you suffering, I am getting more and more convinced that there is no God. And if He is there He has gone to the doctor to get treated for deafness and loss of sight for He hears no prayers and sees no pain. Then I think that we created Him to give us a meaning to things we never understood, where all good things happened because of Him and all evil was the result of all the evil we had done in life. How much evil have you done Ma to suffer so much, how much bad have I done to go through this never ending suffering…surely there is no God, surely there is no heavenly justice. I will remove all His pictures and idols from the house. In our house of evil and misery, there can be no place for someone as good as Him and His Happiness. I know Ma, you will soon be on your way so it just doesn’t matter. Maybe He may not open the Gates of Heaven to you, so what? Can the other place be any worse? I may have to suffer more and so be it….wherever you are Ma, will want to remember you always smiling.

I wasn’t your favourite Ma. Dada was. After all he was fair, good looking and a boy and he could do no wrong. And then he became a doctor at work and I a nurse in real life. No one trained me in this work, life taught me everything. First it was nursing my in-laws and then then you. In the past I used to hate muck and vomit but today I have got over all bad smell and dirt. I can do anything and everything. No nurse can today put me to ransom that she will not come from tomorrow. I can do everything and do it better than them including cleaning your diaper and more. Often the nurses complain of bad odour and will not touch you without putting on gloves but I can do all the work with my bare hands. Today I enjoy the smell of medicines coming from your room. You never used any gloves when I was a baby and did everything for me Ma…the roles have just reversed…

Bheed Mein Yuun Akeyele Rehna hai Mujhe,

Ghar Laut Ke Bhi Aana Paau Maa
Jaana Hai Itna Door Tujhko Ma,

Yaad Bahut Aayegi Teri Aye Maa
Kya Itni Buri Hoon Main Maa
Kya Itni Buri... Meri Maa

While you are sleeping just like Rip Van Winkle, I have forgotten what sleep is. Dark shades beneath my eyes tell the tale. I wake up so many times at night and check if you are well covered, when it is raining outside I close the window while the nurse sleeps peacefully and by the time she wakes up, the water is kept boiled for her to give you a sponge bath and for sterilizing the instruments. The fruit juice is ready to be served well before time. I even make sure the sister gets her coffee on time…funny I pay them but have become the Super Sister or Sister to the Sisters…Sister Act you may say. To Whoopie Goldberg I say, “This ain’t funny Sister!”

Every birthday Baba would get me my new dress and since my birthday was always close to Durga Puja I would be doubly happy to wear the same dress over and over again. You never missed making a special birthday dawat and even till last year you made the rice pudding (payesh) along with Shibu….he did all the work but under your expert direction. It always felt the tastiest food in the world, better than all the cakes and pastries we get from the best shops in town on other occasions. It is a tradition that I too follow …Payesh on Birthdays is a must. This year too I shall make it for you and touch your tender lips with a spoonful of payesh…hope you like it Ma.

I have seen it all and I have experienced everything. So today, Ma, I am not afraid of anything. The world has rocked me over and over and I don’t know whether to say, I’ve survived or not but I can always say, “Bring it on.” On such days, I will miss you Ma. Whenever I used to get hurt, I would rush to you and how you would hug me and calm me down before putting the medicine and then take me to the doctor. Your presence always comforted me and will miss it from here on.

Jab Bhi Kabhi Duniya Mujhe,

Zor Zor Se Jhula Jhulate Hai Maa
Meri Nazar Dhoondhe Tujhe,

Sochun Yahi Tu Aake Thaamegi Maa
Unase Main Yeh Kehta Nahi,

Par Main Seham Jaata Hoon Maa
Chehre Pe Aane Deta Nahi,

Dil Hi Dil Mein Hi Ghabraata Hoon Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Hai Na Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata... Meri Maa

I know I have not always been good to you. Often have shouted at you for forgetting things, for doings things the wrong way….I am sure you would have felt bad. It was at times exasperating Ma and so would lose my cool. I am sorry Ma for I should have known you were not well and forgetfulness was a part of your illness. I am sure someday when I am old, I will forget things and do silly stuff that my daughter will lose her head…it will again come back to me Ma. I will miss you Ma…miss you bad.

Just as I was to retire for the day around midnight you suddenly gripped my finger tight and the phone rang…“Happy Birthday Ma,” an excited daughter on the other end calling after reaching her room some 1500 kilometres away after 17 hours of grueling work. Listening to her wish not only made me happy but it also re-ignited faith and hope in life afresh. 

Mother daughter relations are like that. We cry, we fight, we shout but we care, we love and we nurse and in the end miss one another… Tujhe Sab Hai Pata…Meri Maa.

SS

Narendrapur Diaries

It was the spring of 88 when a motley crowd of sixty odd gathered at a place called Narendrapur on the outskirts of Kolkata at a residential training centre. For most, this was our first job and for some, like us, the first stay outside the perimeters of home. And then it was last week that almost 30 of the lot got together on a floating hotel on the Hooghly to commemorate thirty years of friendship. Thanks of course to FB and Whatsapp, despite the so called loss of data and privacy, we were able to connect and come together. As the two and half hour flight took off from Chatrapathi Shivaji International Airport, memories of old came rolling by. Sharing some of those precious moments…some happy…some embarrassing…...some confessional…some never told before.

Hanuman Chalisa

When I left home my mother gave me the protective shield in the form of a copy of Hanauman Chalisa to recite. She said it would ward off all evil in a new place. Like a good boy, I kept it neatly with the precious documents. As I signed the hostel register, saw that I was to share the room with some Narender…what coincidence…Narender at Narendrapur. Hoping to find someone my size I was stunned to see the giant of a man standing at the  entrance…he was definitely six foot plus but over 120 kgs for sure in weight and he was wearing a white T shirt over a blue checked lungi.  One look at him and I knew that no bhoot or pisach would ever come near me with Narender around….the Holy Book never got opened. My roommate turned out to be a Gentle Giant…never intrusive and one could always count upon him for good sensible advice.

Narender & Me

Ice Breaking

There were a twelve girls in the group…this was the Beautiful Dozen which added colour and a breath of freshness to our lives…in fact brought in music to my life. Almost every night post dinner some of us would sit together with some of the girls and start the game the same way…Akkar Bakkar Bambey Bo, Assi Nabbey Purey So….Antakshari. All my life there was only one thing I could do well and that was playing all sorts of outdoor games. This gaana bajaana was never my forte but who knows why I would get drawn to join this mixed group and also butt in with a song or two in a voice that would do Cacophonix of Asterix comics proud.

Yaad hain who lambi raatein

Woh der tak chatt pe gaane

Aaj kehta hoon

Gaane aur antakshari toh bahane thay

Shayad aapse milne ke

Aur ghanton tak saath baithney ke

Woh din hi doston achche thay.

Crushed@Npur

History had shown that a couple of boys and girls of the same batch like ours would definitely fall in love during the course of six months of training and end up marrying but ours was different. With so many girls around Pyaar toh hona hi tha…and I am certain all of us including me fell in love and fell in love multiple times with different girls at different times but possibly were cowards at heart and never could speak up. So love flourished at every nook and corner but never went the distance. So no group wali shaadi for us.

Teen Deviyan

There was this girl who I believe was in love with me and would find reasons to be around anytime anywhere. Around the same time I realized four of my closest buddies in the group were madly in love with her at the same time. Now this was not at all funny. While I was trying to keep the lass at bay for reasons of my own, all these other heartbroken folks acted truly and madly in love. One of them went completely silent and spiritual when the girl told him about my existence. The other acted as her messenger and so called muh bola bhai and would come to mediate between us. There was this third friend who started growing beard…typical Devdas style and gave up food for some days. The fourth kept his emotions under wraps but couldn’t really hide his soft corner for her. There was surely something about this girl….

The second was an enigma and still is. What it was, who she really was can’t really explain, but can’t miss writing about you, Miss.

Tumko toh main aaj tak samajh na paya

Darta tha kuchh bhi kehne se

Kahin kuchh bhool na kar jaaun

Aur tum dekho mujhe teekhi nazaron se

Yaad hai tumhara class mein aana

Aur mera woh Shammi Kapoor wala gaana…

Kya cool thi tum, kya cool ho tum

Samajh na paaye aaj tak hum.

The third would hardly speak but on the parting day gave me a book with a flower within. It was a joke book by a famous author. Why she picked the book I can’t say. Maybe, she felt I was a comedian and needed some fresh jokes to share…or maybe she felt life’s a joke for when we parted, she didn’t say a word, I said nothing. A terrible joke indeed…

Jaatey jaatey de gayi tum ek kitaab

Aur usmein rakh gayi ek gulaab

Phool kuchh dino mein suukh gaya

Aur ek din gir ke kho gaya

Par kitaab aaj bhi jab kabhi khul jaati hai

Yaad teri aaj bhi aa jaati hai.

Che Guevara

This is not about the motorcycle dairies but about a mini revolt at a peaceful holy place called Narendrapur which had a famous Rama Krishna Ashram and School. It so happened that between two sessions in the morning, there was a short tea time break. Post the break, the faculty for teaching Finance & Accounts came into the class. And what he finds written on the board with chalk was a limerick written to say why no one should ever study accounts. This was blasphemy! The fiery Principal came in and wanted to know who had written such unkind words…there was a complete silence. He then asked for the person who had written to stand…the whole batch stood up in unison….what show of unity! Finally he threatened to punish the whole batch with suspension if the coward did not step out…the Brave Heart in me put his hand up….“Get out of the class and go to my room.”

He stormed in with his stenographer in tow and dictated a letter to the Personnel Department rusticating me from the hostel and suspending me from the course. The letter was immediately faxed to the Head Office for approval and I was asked to go to my room. Like an idiot, I quietly, without objecting, went to my room and started packing my bags. Since the wait got long, I felt sleepy and dozed off. After a while, there was a knock on the door…the office boy shouted, “Saar daakhchenn…shiggiri jaan!” (Sir is calling you, go immediately).

I could see my course mates all standing outside the Principal’s room and they started patting my back as I went inside. The fire had still not subsided but the Princi informed me that my friends had decided to do a satyagraha….skipped lunch in protest against his decision. I was asked to go out and request my friends to withdraw their strike and eat the lunch that was getting wasted. They simply refused. A few of them, who had threatening sizes and the baritone voices, with thumping of desks announced that the rustication and suspension orders needed to be withdrawn or else the hunger strike would continue indefinitely. Finally the Princi caved in and tore up the office order which was met with great applause from the students. I suddenly became a hero in the group but a snake in the grass for the Princi and he would pick on me for anything that went wrong in the training period…no wonder my friends called me, “Princi’s Blue Eyed Boy”. How I wished we had some phones with cameras thirty years ago…could have clicked and preserved the limerick for eternity.

Kal Aaj Aur Kal

Tees Saal Baad

Meeting these revolutionaries after so long was an opportunity I wasn’t going to miss. So met them and had a great evening together. During this time, while the girls had turned into mature ladies, some of us boys refused to grow up and still showed traces of our impish side despite wrinkled faces and coloured hair. On my way back to Mumbai wrote a few lines on the Reunion Nite:

Dost Purane

Kya raat thi, Kya baat thi

Kuchh meethey gaane

Kuchh namkeen chichorapan

Gaanon ke saath thi taali

Aur do chaar pyar bhari gaali

Baal kuchh jhad gaye thay

Bachey kuchey rang diye gaye thay

Yaadon mein hum kho gaye

Dil se dil phir ek baar mil gaye

Paani ki leheren ummad rahin thi

Par dil mein leherein unse kuchh zyada thi

Chaand safar pe chal pada tha

Par saath dene ka vada tha

Soney ki kisko thi fikar

Bas raat jaagney ka tha zikar

Haathon mein liye jaam

Honthon pe sabke thi muskaan.

Dost puraney achche thay

Dost puraney achchey rahenge.

SS