A new found home

“Things are turning bad Anjali! Shekhar has refused to…” Gitanjali cried softly over the phone. “I don’t want to live here, but I…I don’t know where else to go!”

Sensing her sister’s helplessness, Anjali’s soft voice sounded over the receiver. “Don’t worry didi. I am coming!”

—

A few days later, on a Sunday afternoon in Kolkata, two women, in their sixties, more or less of the same facial structure and built got down from Bus number 234 at Dhakuria. They were fair, short heighted, had round face and had soft brown hair tied into a bun. Both wore circular framed glasses. Though similar, they still looked starkly different. While one wore a dark blue sari with a gold chain around her neck with gold, red and white bangles in each hand, the other wore a beige sari with a little black work around the edge and had a stainless steel strap wrist watch on her left hand.

The two women, in crushed cotton saris and bare minimum accessories, lugged two suitcases and a handbag with some effort. They looked tired and wobbly. They walked a little from the bus stop and then turned left into a residential lane.

After walking a few blocks, they entered a house reading “Sriniketan”.  As the women flanked open the wooden picket fence gate, their eyes met a young girl, who was sitting and peeling peas on the verandah floor. She broke into a smile on seeing the duo.

“Kemon aacho?” The girl asked as she came forward. She was a frail, dark skinned girl, barely sixteen, wearing a dull olive green salwar kurta and a ponytail.  She looked at the glowing, yet slightly wrinkled face of Gitanjali and quickly bent down to touch her feet.

“Thak, thak!” Gitanjali replied placing a hand gently over the girl’s head.

The girl quickly hauled the suitcases from the woman’s hand. Gitanjali smiled as she gave her handbag. “I’m good Shona?” she replied slowly. “Why have you become so thin?”

The girl simply smiled and shrugged before turning inside.

“Is your baba inside?” Anjali asked tiredly as she climbed the two stairs to the verandah.

“No. He has gone to doctor jethu to get his injections!” informed Shona. Placing the luggage into the living room, she quickly picked her peeled peas tray and went into the kitchen.

“Esho didi!” called out Anjali. “Let’s have some tea first and then you can go and change.”

Gitanjali smiled feebly and sat down on a cane chair with a heavy sigh. She looked around lazily into the living room. The green wooden windows, red oxide floor and the grunting ceiling fan, all made her feel at home. She closed her eyes and rested her neck back.

Anjali looked at her elder sister. Her beige tant sari had got all crumpled in the crowded bus. She noticed how frail and tired her sister looked.

“Let’s wait for Shantanu! I’d already discussed the matter with him before I came to Bangalore! I’m sure he must have thought of something!” Anjali said sympathetically, looking at her sister’s saddened face.

Gitanjali opened her eyes and removed her glasses. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“It’s ok Anju! Don’t worry, I’m alright!” lied Gitanjali. “I will go to my place, sometime tomorrow morning!”

“What? Why tomorrow?” Anjali said with concern. “Stay here for a few days and then I will drop you to your Kasba flat.”

Gitanjali shook her head and hand. “I am fine Anju! I just need some time to think!”

“What is there to think?” asked a rough voice. The women turned around to see a man, in late sixties step into the room. He was almost bald with a few strands of grey-white hairs, dressed in kurta pajama and slippers. He wore black colored, huge rectangular framed glasses. His soft eyes twinkled when he saw the women.

“You will first have the world’s best kachori and then think of going somewhere!” he declared putting a brown paper bag on the dining table with a smile.

The lady in the blue cotton sari smiled. “Thank god you came! Didi is constantly talking about going home!

Shona quickly came with a tray of plain white cups and saucers. She poured black tea into three cups and served one kachori into each plate.

“I won’t have!” resisted Gitanjali.

“Arre, khao!” Shantanu insisted. “I got it from this new shop, which is famous for its Kachoris!”

Very reluctantly, Gitanjali gave away and bit into the crunchy coating of the flour snack. “Khub bhalo!” she admitted smiling weakly.

Shantanu looked at her sister-in-law and smiled. “You have become very old in just a few days! Look you’re getting white hair!” he teased her.

Gitanjali was looking down. She smilingly shook her head and tucked a few loose grey hair strands at the back of her ear.

The trio soon finished their tea and decided to talk. They moved to the couple’s bedroom and Gitanjali entered. She had changed into a pastel green sari with a black blouse.

“We have already decided” declared Shantanu looking up to see Gitanjali taking a seat across the study table. The balding man looked at his wife and smiled. “You are going to live with us from now on!”

Gitanjali looked shocked. “No…No!”She said shaking her head. “I can’t. I know why you’re doing this to me, but let me tell you one thing. I won’t be able to live happily here!”

At this statement, Anjali’s face fell. “Keno didi? Won’t we keep you happy?”

“You will Anju,” Gitanjali said immediately. “But how can I burden you when I know that your husband is a chronic diabetes patient and you are an ailing arthritis patient! It will be too much of guilt on me! You both are aging after all?”

“We have Shona to take care of us. Can’t we all live together?” interrupted Shantanu.

“No, I can’t!” Gitanjali said looking away. “I won’t be able to bear another disappointment. I don’t want to become a disappointment for both of you!” she quickly corrected.

“You won’t be!” explained her sister. “You…” but stopped midway on seeing her husband’s raised palm to stop.

“If not here, then how will you live Gita?” Shantanu asked firmly. “How will you manage that Kasba flat and live there all alone?”

“I will not!” she said with a straight face. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she brought in control. “I have decided to go to ‘Ananda ashram’!”

The duo widened their eyes in disbelief and looked at each other.

“Have you gone mad?” Shantanu spoke angrily. “What wait a second? You mean to say you will go to an old age home?”

Gitanjali did not utter a single word.

“Why do you want to go and live in an old age home when you have the option of living with us?”

“You do not understand Shantanu”, said Gitanjali softly. “ I will love to live here, but that way I will lose my self-respect, my sense of dignity. Every day, I will feel depressed about the fact that I am living under someone’s sympathy!”

The old man opened his mouth but closed again. He shook his head and adjusted his spectacles. Heaving a sigh, he spoke softly after some time.

“Ok fine”, he said looking exasperated. “ I understand your state of mind and admire your sense of self, but living in an old age home does not look good when you have two grown up children to take care of you. If you want, I will speak to Suranjan and Sunidhi. I’m sure they will understand. They are your children after all!”

Tears flowed down Gitanjali’s cheeks. She gently wiped them with her sari’s edge. “Shekhar will not like the idea!” she said softly.

Shekhar smiled triumphantly.

Gitanjali looked at him with painful eyes and said, “He prefers me to live alone with a domestic help, but not in an old age home.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Shantanu said looking flabbergasted.  “How can you live alone in Kasba flat? That area isn’t good! Doesn’t he know it’s so dangerous these days for elderly people to live in a house alone? And the domestic helps, let me tell you, they are the worst! Thankfully, we have raised Shona like our own daughter since she was five. It’s only after so many years of togetherness that she has my trust or else I won’t allow any other domestic help to step into my house. It’s too dangerous!”

“That’s why I have decided to go Ananda Ashram!”

“There she goes again”, Shantanu said looking irritable. “Why not live with Shekhar? He can….”

Anjali stopped him and shook her head, signaling him to stop. She looked at her husband and back to her sister.

“I do understand that you can’t live with Shekhar, but that doesn’t mean you have to live alone or in an ashram! Maybe you can re-think about this decision of yours” she suggested softly. “Our option is still open and if it’s still a no, then we will prefer to speak to Shekhar.”

Gitanjali noticed the seriousness in her sister’s voice, but decided to stay quiet. She looked outside the window where a light breeze played with the leaves of a mango tree. The weather had suddenly become colder and the sky outside had turned a dark grey, suggesting a downpour in the making.

—

Gitanjali opened the lock of her one bed room flat and stepped inside. She could smell her room freshener faintly, coupled with slight dampness. She dragged her suitcase, placed it in one corner of her sparsely furnished living room and closed the door behind. She poured herself a glass of water and dialed a number, on her cell phone.

“Hello, Anjali!” she paused. “I have reached home! Yes, and don’t worry, I will manage.” She quickly hung up.

She went to her room and opened the adjoining balcony to let some sunshine stream in. As she opened the door, she smelled dust and pigeon waste. Frowning, she quickly went to grab her broom and mop.

Hardly fifteen minutes and Gitanjali had started cleaning up her locked house. First she did the balcony, followed by her room and then kitchen and living room. She wondered how a locked up house could accumulate so much dirt. “Maybe it’s because of the main road!” she thought in her mind.

She freshened up, did her puja and chanted hymns. She thought of lunch, but skipped the idea.

She made herself a cup of black tea and sat in her balcony. She looked at her potted plants downstairs. Luckily they were alive! “Radha has watered them for sure”, she thought appreciating her domestic help.

She saw her next door neighbor, Mrs. Basu, walk slowly with a walking stick. Her husband walked ahead, holding her bags. He stopped a little ahead and turned to see his better half’s status of arrival. His wife was still a meter away from him.

Gitanjali smiled. She leaned back in her bamboo chair and sipped tea. She gazed at her husband’s photo on the wall and thought how things would have been if her husband were alive.

She was lost in her memories when her cell phone rang. She quickly put the cup down and rushed inside.

“Ma!” a voice boomed.

“Shekhar!” Gitanjali almost cried in joy. “How are you? How are…” but she stopped midway.

“Mashi called me!” Shekhar spoke grimly. “You are again thinking of going to live in Ananda ashram? Have you gone insane? Why can’t you think once about me or Sunidhi? Don’t you understand what we will have to go through?”

Gitanjali’s eyes filled with fresh tears. Suddenly her voice hardened. “I have decided. It will do me good.”

“What about us? Think of what will people say? It will ruin my image. My in-laws will think I am shunning my responsibility!” he shouted.

“It’s a matter of my life Shekhar! It’s about my…” she was cut abruptly.

“Oh please ma! You are being selfish!” he paused and the continued again. “I understand that living with us is a problem, but you can always stay in Bangalore. I will get you another flat, better than that trash you’re living in!”

Gitanjali winced at the words. “You can call me later when you’re calm” and she disconnected the line.

The cell buzzed again showing Shekhar’s name, but Gitanjali did not pick up. She cried silently.

—

“Didi has always lived independently”, Anjali spoke silently.

Anjali and Shona were sitting on the floor of their verandah, with feet dangling and touching the concrete slab of their courtyard.

Anjali absent mindedly looked across the fence as she spoke, “She has single handedly raised her two children, got them married and helped them settle down.”

“It’s a pity that her two children refuse to keep her now!” replied Shona without looking at her mistress. She was listening to each and every detail of Anjali.

“No it isn’t exactly true!” Anjali said, looking at Shona. “Shekhar’s wife, Aisha, has problems regarding her living with them or else Sunidhi, Gita didi’s daughter and her husband doesn’t pose any. It’s only that their busy life doesn’t allow them to spend much time with her and she’s left alone at their place most of the day.”

“But ma, don’t you think that will happen with children who are working?” Shona asked looking at Anjali innocently.

Anjali smiled. “It is Shona, but my sister, like I said, has always been independent. She has always done things her way. Even now, when she is becoming old, she doesn’t like the idea of being subjected to someone’s ideologies or living under the shelter of someone. She loves to live a free life, pursue interests of her choice and much more. It is this which is killing her!”

Munching her evening rice crispies, Anjali nodded her head in thought. It was as if she realized something. “She wants to live life the way she had with her children. She used to take them for travels, read and write with them, cook for them, but she can’t do all this when alone. She needs company, I mean…” she fumbled and paused, allowing herself to swallow her mouthful of rice crispies.

“I understood ma!” said Shona, looking sympathetic. “Maybe she doesn’t want to live here as that will make her feel indebted, but living in an old age home will make her feel good. When she sees and lives with people of her age, with similar background, she can be happy and contended! She won’t feel as if she’s receing someone’s favor!”

Anjali stopped to look at Shantanu, who had just stepped into the verandah. He looked at her and smiled. A clear, new picture, a new perspective dawned upon them. Anjali looked at Shona, who looked from her to Shantanu.

“Did I say something wrong baba?” Shona asked slowly, fearing that she might be scolded.

Shantanu came and placed his hand on her head. “Na ma, you’re absolutely right! In fact, I’m happy you could show us something we missed! Maybe this is what she wants, just a life of freedom and self-respect!” He looked at both and said, “I think it’s time to call and inform her children”.

—

Two suitcases and two sky bags were put right across the bench. It was a verandah overlooking a huge green lawn. Gitanjali sat quietly with Anjali, as Shantanu went inside to talk to the authorities. A fresh new feeling, a surge of trepidation ran through Anjali.

She looked around. A huge sprawling lawn, with its different colors of flowers and plants, looked resplendent under the morning sun. She spotted a few workers sweeping the concrete pavement that ran amidst the green.

“I don’t know how you will live here didi!” Anjali said squeezing her sister’s hand. “Any time you feel uncomfortable; just remember we are only a phone call away!”

Gitanjali, dressed in a white-black sari looked at her sister and stroked her back. “Don’t worry, I will be fine!” she reassured. She looked away and pretended to take a view, when Anjali noticed her sister cracking her knuckles. She knew her sister was nervous too!

“Come, we‘ll go inside!” said Shantanu, who walked into the verandah with the lady-in-charge. “Gitanjali, this is Saraswati. I’ve explained to her about your schedule, medicines, habits and…”

Gitanjali placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you Shantanu! I don’t know what I would’ve done without you two.”

Shantanu looked away and picked her luggage and then headed inside.

Gitanjali made out his slight annoyance, but she remained silent and followed the lady. As she entered, she found an aged couple, curiously eyeing her and her luggage. Though silent, she found them gazing softly. A strange bond formed and she felt a little reassured.

Gitanjali looked away and read something at the lady’s desk. A ‘manager’ board stood on her table. The manager’s room opened into a long drawn corridor, flanked by numerous double and triple bed rooms.

“It looks like a railway platform, except for the courtyard, in the middle”, Shantanu commented as he walked by. The women turned to gaze at some people, all with grey-white hairs involved in some activity.

“Shantanu has not signed any paper. I’ll see the room and the people. If the condition isn’t good, then rethink about it”, Anjali whispered in hushed tones into her sister’s ear.

Gitanjali turned to look at Anjali, who was trying to hide an expression of disappointment. She slowly touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. See, there are so many like me, I’m sure I’ll manage”, she said and quickly turned away.

Anjali found that her sister was given a room, which had three beds and luckily which even had a balcony. However, both lay vacant.

“There is nobody on these two?” Anjali asked pointing at the beds.

“Aache!” a worker quickly replied. “They are out. There are two ladies, one named Aradhana on this bed”, he said pointing to the one next to Gitanjali’s “and this one belongs to Supriya. She loves to talk. Will keep you awake for hours I know. She has information about everybody in the dorm.”

Gitanjali felt slightly better. The very word “dorm” made her feel like a hosteller.

“Okay. You can see how it feels,” interrupted Anjali. “But remember we’ll again come after a week and then if we find things unsuitable, then you’re coming with us and that’s final.”

Bidding a teary goodbye, the aged couple left, leaving a strangely fearful Gitanjali behind.

She was sad and lost in her thoughts and cracking her knuckles, unaware that two of her roommates were watching her silently.

“It happens sister!” said one of them.

Gitanjali looked around to find a dark skinned, slightly plump aged female staring at her.Her right hand was on a crutch and she was dressed in a neat looking cotton printed sari. In spite of a decent get up, bearing a gold chain, two bangles and earrings, she bore a strange, deserted look on her face. After a careful observation, Gitanjali noticed that her expression was blank and she looked more deserted than anything else.

“I am Aradhana, sister! I too have come just like you.”

The other female signaled her to stop, but she went on. “Well, this is Supriya and she doesn’t like my crying habit and also gets bothered when I open up in front of new people.”

Gitanjali smiled and sat on the bed. She was eyeing Aradhana, who sat with some difficulty, after getting adequate support from her friend.

“So abandoned by your own children? Isn’t it? The same old tale exists in every household. Equations have changed dear. It’s always the sons and the daughters betraying us, the oldies, in their last.” Aradhana said sadly.

“No, it isn’t my children?” Gitanjali lied.

“Then why did they leave you?” she asked looking confused and curious

“Well they did not want me to be left in here. It was my decision to not stay back. That was my sister and her husband and they are nice, but I did not like the idea of burdening them”, she paused, waiting to see their reaction.

“Do you have children sister?” Aradhana asked quietly, changing her position.

Gitanjali nodded, but remained silent.

The duo noticed the tears in Gitanjali’s eyes and kept mum.

“Good for you then!” Aradhana grumbled, breaking the silence. “Look at me, four sons and all of them useless. They got carried away with their wives’ tale and dumped me in here. As long as my husband was alive and had money, they ate it all well and now they hardly come or even send me money. It’s my granddaughter who’s constantly coming and paying for my upkeep.”

Supriya was silent for a long time before she interfered with the conversation and said good naturedly, “Oh boudi, let’s not waste our time in talking about old tales. What has been done has been for good! Look at the quality of life we have now, especially mine. It’s better than that house where I was a mere maid servant.”

“Yeah, that’s true”, and Aradhana quickly filled in about Supriya’s story. Gitanjali noticed the short heighted, fair but pale faced woman, in dark brown sari and no jewelry. She looked strangely happy to her.

“Supriya was a widow, with two sons and daughter, all of whom turned her away, because she no longer remained physically active.” she said disgustingly as if she was reliving the moments. However, Gitanjali noticed that Supriya simply smiled forcibly at this brief introduction and avoided her gaze.

“Living in a joint family, Supriya’s life got spent in doing all the household chores, for even the sons and their offspring. The daughter-in-law hardly helped her with anything!” added Aradhana with revulsion.

Gitanjali was disgusted, but at the same time comforted. She was not alone in this game of life.

Later, when Supriya’s story ended, Gitanjali was quickly briefed about their daily activities.

“Sister, we do everything here. We chat, travel, cultivate hobbies like gardening, painting, yoga, poetry and much more”, Supriya said with twinkling eyes. “What do you like to do?”

Gitanjali thought for some time before she said, “A little bit of everything you mentioned, but I love to read, write and travel!”

“Oh that’s good then. The manager is good and always focuses on our well being”, said Supriya excitedly.

Gitanjali liked the duo. No matter how much bad Aradhana had to say about her life at Ananda ashram, Supriya managed to curb the negativity. She always said something opposite to Aradhana, making her future look bright.

“There are specialized doctors, who come regularly for checkups”, continued Supriya. “We get our own cooks and maid, who are assigned to each floor. And most important of all, there are volunteers from various NGO’s who come and meet us, plan workshops for us and always keep us involved. Sometimes, they even manage to get petty jobs, which allow us to manage our own upkeep.” Gitanjali noticed a glint of pride in Supriya’s dark eyes.

Gitanjali was now sitting straight. Will it be a free life once again, just the way it had been when she was young. Her husband had died young, owing to a car accident and she was disowned by his relatives. Since then she had regularized herself to live alone with her children and sister. The habit had helped her understand the value of living alone with grace.

Even after she heard them, she still fidgeted deep down. Every now and then she drifted into a world of helplessness and hapless anger. She could not forget her agony and the way in which her son had shamelessly made her feel so negligible.

She remembered his words, “It will be difficult for us ma!”

Aradhana and Supriya looked at Gitanjali’s  saddened and vacant expression.

Supriya went and sat next to Gitanjali.

“This is the time to gather your strength and start life afresh sister” Supriya said placing a hand on her shoulder. “We all have been life givers, can’t we do a little bit to give direction to our own lives?”

Gitanjali shook her head feebly. She looked at Supriya and smiled.

“Everyone is trying to live life with grace and optimism. You will learn to live sister!” she added softly.

After two days, Gitanjali found that things took up momentum slowly, yet steadily. She met all sorts of people, people who had no living relatives, to people abandoned by their near and dear ones. While some cribbed like Aradhana, others lived in improving their lives and Supriya was of that kind. She made Gitanjali stay with her throughout the day. Right from sharing meals to playing cards to gardening to listening to Supriya’s ravindra sangeet, Gitanjali was always there.

“I like everything about the ashram Anju!” Gitanjali told her sister over phone. “I have started liking the simplicity, the grace of these people and am enjoying their company. I have started feeling at home and being loved, cared and above all respected for what I am and not for what I couldn’t be!”

“That’s very good didi. I am happy for you! Anyway, Shekhar has come down and will come to see you this evening!”

Gitanjali heart sank. She didn’t know how to react. “What should I tell him Anju? I don’t know whether I should be happy or not?”

“Just be honest didi!” suggested Anjali softly.

Finally, that evening, Shekhar arrived with a box of her mother’s favorite sweets.

“They are ma’s favorite!” he had told his mashi.

Shekhar, a man in mid-thirties, fair, tall, with a French beard, walked into the visitor’s room neatly dressed a formal white shirt and black trousers.

Gitanjali watched him through curtain folds. The mother was filled with a mix of emotions. Still she composed herself and decided to meet him.

“Ma, how are you?” he asked casually, without an expression of regret. He walked to her, touched her feet and handed her the box.

Gitanjali stroked his back and took the box of sweets.

“I’m fine. How are you? How’re Aisha and Gautam?” Gitanjali was surprised at her own voice. It had confidence that she thought she had lost long ago.

Slightly taken aback, Shekhar spoke hesitatingly, “They’re fine.” He stopped looking intently at his mother, wondering what had come over her mother.

“Will you have a coconut laddu?” Gitanjali called a worker, who came in with a plate of white marble like balls.

His mother told him to sit and she offered snacks, made by Supriya. She smiled and spoke as gently as ever, without giving any faint hint or tinge of sadness or loneliness.

Shekhar was shocked to see the transformation. Suddenly a sense of guilt came over. At that very moment, his cell phone rang. It was his wife’s call. He disconnected it and looked longingly at his mother.

“How are you finding it ma?” he asked slowly.

Gitanjali looked and smiled at him. “I’m fine dear and the place is good. It has everything that I missed.”

The last sentence hit a chord, a chord of guilt, in Shekhar’s heart.

He quickly looked away and sipped his tea that was later offered so lovingly by his mother’s newly made friends.

They talked for about ten minutes, after which Gitanjali quickly got up and said, “It was nice you came to see me Shekhar. Now I will leave. You see I have so much to do in here that I’m hardly left with any free time. I’m now doing everything, for which I never had time.”

Shekhar got up and kept his tea cup on the table. He was surprised. The tables had surely turned!

“I will also leave then”, he said waiting for his mother to stop him, but she didn’t. On the contrary, she simply nodded, kissed him on his forehead and left.

He stood like a rock, staring at her mother, who walked away with his half-filled tea cup, leaving him behind in his own world. Gitanjali did not turn back or request him to come again. She just left, without uttering a word.

Supriya and Aradhana watched the scene, unfurling between the mother and son.

“We all live here Supriya, but we know a very little on living!” Aradhana spoke softly, seeing Gitanjali sit on her bed and gaze at the floor.

“This Ananda ashram has housed many, but only Gitanjali has learnt to restore her sense of self, dignity and grace. I am glad her new found home could provide her with happiness that she had lost long time ago, somewhere amidst people, whom she had falsely presumed to be her own.”

Tears trickled down Gitanjali’s face as she saw her son’s car from the balcony. His car threw a cloud of dust as it drove out slowly. She wiped her face and swallowed hard. Aradhana kept a hand on her shoulder. Gitanjali turned around and saw her smiling. It was reassuring!

__END__