Before you read please note that thatha is a Tamil affectionate for old man, literally meaning grandfather. Amma is an affectionate term in many South Indian languages meaning mother. Akka is a Tamil affectionate for elder sister.
It was a clear midsummer evening. The setting sun created, dissolved and recreated quite ripples of orange in the clear sky. Flocks of birds flew across that splendid background contributing their own addition to the orange canvas as it seemed. The summer vacations had only began and the local park was crowded with people, young and old, who came for their daily play, evening walk or simple chit-chat. The air was filled with the laughter and shouting of the children as they played and the noise of the motorists who whizzed past, flaunting their motorcycles. Everything seemed just the usual except that at present there was a certain void, someone was missing but anyone hardly missed him.
He was a regular at the park at this hour of the evening, an old man with snow white hair, tall and thin, his once fair complexion tanned and darkened by his years of toil under the harsh sun. I was used to seeing him everyday since I was five. It was a habit and I eagerly awaited his arrival every evening as I went up to the balcony with my cup of coffee though I know not why I amused myself so much with it. Today, I stood there and awaited his arrival long after the sun had gone and the ripples disappeared, the stars peeped out of their blue blanket and the melancholy moon lit the night. I know not why I stood there and waited so long for I guess I knew full well that he wouldn’t come, not today nor forever.
He was a very hardworking man, in his early sixties when I first saw him. He used to do the weeding and gardening in almost all the houses in the locality. An excellent gardener that he was, he was always in demand. I used to call him thatha . He would start around six in the morning, with his hoe and spade, and go to every lane, every house looking for an opportunity to render his service. He did not seem to care much about the wages he received, he seemed contented enough with the satisfaction he got from what he did. There was a certain connect he shared with the soil he tilled and the plants he grew. I watched him with utmost awe – that skilled worker who worked every little detail to perfection and loved his art with all heart.
If there was a person or thing under the sun that he loved as much as his plants, they were children. It was his routine to stop and watch the children as they laughed and played in the park. Sometimes his eyes would well up and he would rub the end of his nose with a reminiscent finger. I know not whether anyone noticed him, I doubt it, but he sat there for long till it got dark and then he would gather his tools and start his journey back home.
More often than not, his wife, Lakshmi amma , would accompany him. A beautiful woman, much younger than him in years, short and fair with earnest brown eyes and a kind of unique grace in every look and action that made her unforgettable. She would make brooms and sell it from door and door, help him with the weeding and work as a maid in a house or two. She was always a pleasure to behold. Then come the evenings and they met under the shade of the old mango tree to have their food. They were each other’s source of comfort and pillar of strength.
They had a daughter, Deepti akka as I called her. A long cherished child, her happiness meant everything to her parents. She had inherited her looks from her father and her elegance and charm from her mother. She looked like a glimpse of radiant sunshine, her long raven hair dancing as she walked and the loveliest fragrance of sandal accompanying her breathe. She was admired and envied for her graceful style and character. Her brilliance and quest for knowledge endeared her to all. She worked hard towards making her parents happy. She multi tasked between being a dutiful daughter and a good student with great ease and efficiency. She was a regular at school and a favourite among teachers and friends alike. It was the ambition of her life to become a civil servant, an IAS officer, and she worked towards it with all heart.
Some in the locality chided her for being too ambitious. “That girl, her parents go about working in every house, weeding and washing vessels and she wants to be an IAS officer it seems!” they would say to tease her. Some others said the same thing as an inspirational instance before other children. She listened to both of these but lent her ears only to the latter. Though there was a lot of love and moral support in her family, there was a serious struggle to make ends meet. She understood this and lived up to the situation. She never complained about anything and limited her wants to immediate necessities.
Deepti proved her responsible nature by clearing her class ten public examinations with a district rank. Though her neighbours considered her to be a great achiever, she never let this affect her attitude. She was as unassuming as ever and as a matter of fact started working all the more harder. Her parents were overjoyed when she received a scholarship from the school. She knew that in spite of her scholarship, her high school education was an expensive affair for her parents. She wanted to do justice to the pains that they were taking for her. She would borrow books from her friends and teachers and study hard, sometimes staying up all night. Her mother, inspite of her tiredness after the hard day’s labour, stayed up with her.
Of the many girls who studied with Deepti was Akshaya. She was the daughter of an elite business man and a socialite. She was very fond of thatha and amma and spent a lot of time talking to them. At home, her parents were always too busy for her. There was abundance of all material pleasures at home but there was a void of the bonds of love and peace. Her parents, who were busy with their respective lives, fought almost everyday and for almost everything. Verbal abuses and swearing were a common affair and they hardly ever spoke to each other except for these. This was a sharp contrast to Deepti’s loving and peaceful home. For amma and thatha she was just like Deepti. They would often call her their second daughter.
Deepti’s hardwork bore sweet fruits as she cleared her class twelve public examinations with a state rank. Her result didn’t come as a surprise though, as she had always been a keen student. The people, who chided her earlier, now came to appreciate her and tell her to aim higher. Her parents were over the moon. They now walked the streets with pride. The people for whom they worked looked at them with a new respect. Those who mocked them felt ashamed to open their mouth. But above all they had found a new identity. They felt proud to be known by their daughter’s name, to be known as Deepti’s parents.
Thatha was determined to send her to a good college. He would say that he wouldn’t mind dying a day earlier working for her education but even a hearty hundred years bereft of that was distasteful for him. When she got a full scholarship to study at a college in Bangalore their affluent neighbours were haunted by the green eyed monster and tried their best to persuade amma and thatha against letting her go. But even in the face of all criticism thatha decided to send her to Bangalore for her higher studies. The days before her departure were a source of joy and pain for her parents. They were elated that their daughter would get to live a life much better than their own but at the same time they were concerned about her comforts and safety in a new city. They knew little about the people and places in the city and hence were much worried about whether Deepti would fit in and be fine. However they worked with multiplied enthusiasm to make enough money for her comfortable journey and stay. Though they would not be able to see their daughter for the next five years, they wanted to make sure that she had surplus of all that she would need.
On the night before she left for Bangalore, thatha came back unusually late from work. His hands were covered with painful blisters and mud and he looked extremely tired. Deepti was surprised to find him like that. He did not stop to reply her inquisitive gaze and retreated to his old mat. The next morning as she prepared to leave he called her and handed her a small package. She opened it with great excitement and found a beautiful fountain pen inside. He said that this was a gift he had longed to give her as he had noticed that she liked it but never spoke of it and that he was late the last night because he was cleaning an empty plot in the locality to buy her the pen. She took his hand in her hand and looked at the painful blisters. Her eyes welled up and tears washed down the pain from his wound. Both their eyes were moist as they waved farewell, not knowing perhaps that it would be for the very last time.
The months following her departure were long for her parents. They looked lifeless as they went on with their daily work. Akshaya visited them often and except for those few hours, their days remained gloomy. Thatha was especially troubled by her leaving. His eyes would well up when he saw other girls her age and he found great comfort in talking to them. Whenever Deepti called them on their neighbour’s phone they would rush to talk to her and end up crying on hearing her voice. Amma would often cry thinking and talking about her. During those days Akshaya had taken the place of Deepti at home.
Five long years passed on like that and finally the day for Deepti’s return arrived. Her parents had worked for longer hours the whole week to make enough money to get her everything she liked. The house looked as if it was being readied for some marriage. They even borrowed money from a place where amma worked. On the night before her arrival her parents had no sleep in their eyes. They sat in the verandah, under the starlit sky as a soft breeze whispered a song, dreaming of their daughter’s arrival and what all she would achieve in her life. They were ecstatic about all the greatness that their daughter would become. They had been telling everyone about her arrival and the calendar had been giving them inexpressible pleasures for the past month. The moment which they had so anxiously awaited for five long years was just a matter of hours away.
The next morning they both dressed up in their best attires and sat on the steps of the verandah awaiting Deepti’s arrival. Lakshmi amma was up very early that morning and had prepared all of akka’s favourite dishes. There was a divine happiness on their faces and it made them glow. But Fate loves to achieve its crudest pleasures with its most innocent victims. Deepti didn’t come in the morning nor did she turn up in the afternoon. They phoned her friends in Bangalore several times to confirm the time she was supposed to arrive in Chennai and whether there was any delay in the timing. Their answers only multiplied their quandary and their fear knew no bounds. It was late in the evening when an ambulance arrived at the doorstep. It was followed by their neighbour’s son. His eyes were red and puffed of crying. They all stood frozen as stones, not daring to speak or suspect. The men in the ambulance brought out a stretcher. “Deepti maa” amma’s cry was the last thing anyone in the neighbourhood heard that night.
Thatha did not cry nor did he express his sorrow through words. He stood there, patient and still, and watched his child go. She was going, leaving him and everyone behind and all alone, all by herself. The child he had so much loved, whom he was so proud of, who had held his hand and learnt to walk, whom he had protected under his shadow and comforted with all he had was leaving him all alone in the vast world.
It was an accident. She was crossing the road when a raging lorry hit her, causing serious head injury. Though the crowd swelled up around her, none volunteered medical aid. The neighbour’s son was on his way to college when he saw the crowd and went to take a look. He recoganised Deepti and rushed her to a private hospital. They refused to treat her till the police had arrived and verified. No amount of pleading could move them. Finally they moved her to a GH by ambulance but it was already too late for anything. The doctors declared her dead on arrival.
Amma remained unconscious for the three days that followed. Even after a couple of weeks elapsed, they did not care much about what they ate nor did they go out for work. They had seemingly lost all meaning in living and their life was a mere existence. After a month or so, thatha slowly began getting back to work but amma remained depressed. A great many of their neighbours visited them during those days. Some came to sympathise with them while some other rather callous ones, came to chide them for being too ambitious and sending their daughter to another city. Amma in her frozen state cared little for either of these. She did not go out to work after that, she carried on only with the household chores.
One evening she appeared very disturbed. Earlier that morning she had been to a house where she used to work to plead for an extension to repay the debt that he had taken for Deepti’s arrival. Though the extension was granted, the woman of the house had, in the face of sympathizing with her, told her that her ambition was the real reason for her daughter’s death. For Lakshmi amma this was too heavy an accusation. She did not speak a word but came home sobbing. There was quite a chaos in the house, the next morning. Lakshmi amma was standing in the verandah and calling Deepti’s name and pretending to talk to her as if she were alive. Whenever anyone came to comfort her or tell her that Deepti was gone, she would yell at the top of her voice as if she wasn’t ready to take that as fact. None in the neighbourhood had seen her like that before – her clothes were dirty, her hair spread all over her face. In the evening however she turned unusually silent. She would wound up in a corner of the verandah and speak nothing at all. Hours passed into days and days turned to months but amma remained just the same. She was like a traumatized child, sometimes throwing tantrums and sometimes depressingly silent. She would scream and cry if anyone except thatha came anywhere near her.
She had a habit of hurting herself, in her depressive state, with anything she could find. It seemed like in the towering shadow of mental agony that outweighed any physical pain; she had found a dear asylum in physical pain. She could not be left alone at home because of this so thatha took her with him wherever he went. People laughed at him for walking with a lunatic. Yes, that is what they called amma - a lunatic – and this wasn’t wrong in a world governed chiefly by the scope for material gain where emotions are a thing meant only for the ones who suffered in its tangle. I admired thatha for the sternness he showed during those days. People laughed at him but he never lowered his head. He considered it his responsibility to look after his wife. He would feed her from his own hands and do all the household chores before they left. As each day passed amma grew all the more childish. Her innocence was a source of mockery for people in the neighbourhood. Akshaya was abroad so there was not even a word of comfort.
An year passed on like that. That tragic day arrived again and with other plans. It was the fifth of March 2012. Amma looked very different that day. She looked like her old self, wearing Deepti’s favourite yellow cotton saree and her long hair plaited and adored by the fragrance of fresh jasmines. She sat in the verandah counting the beads of her rosary, her prayer book in her hand and a devoted prayer on her lips. She had refrained from accompanying thatha that day. She did not talk to anyone and melted into her deep prayer. She did not respond even when thatha turned up from work in the evening. Her eyes were shut and her lips moved with great reverence. She cared little about the chillness of the night or the slight drizzle. It seemed that she was pleading with the Infinite for some great power...or mercy.
She achieved the fruit of her prayers the very next morning. She was still holding on to the beads of the rosary and her prayer book was still open in her hand. Tiny droplets of tears floated on her fair skin. Though her grip on these was intact, it was loose and cold. The coldness was all over her. Her skin was pale and supple and her face had an expression of divine serenity attained perhaps by a reunion with her daughter in eternity. Thatha was more shattered than ever. Within a year’s time he had lost all he ever had. He wouldn’t move from amma’s side. He cried a lot, not caring one bit about what others said or thought. Now that everything he cared for had left him, he seemed utterly unconcerned about anyone or anything around.
After amma’s funeral he wandered about the park and the old mango tree as if recollecting past memories. Then suddenly he went missing. Nobody knew where he went nor was anybody concerned about taking up the menial job of looking for him. He returned after almost half a year. Yes it was indeed him but it was hard to believe. His legs were wobbly, his eyes looked tired, red and puffed, he went about blabbering something but above all, he was drunk! None could believe their eye or ears and all just hoped that this wasn’t him. Sadly, reality begged to differ from any expectation. He was never the same again. The only ‘important’ thing in his life now was getting drunk. He would get drunk till he was sick, then he would puke and again repeat the former.
Yet, everyday he relentlessly followed his routine. He was up and about and in search of work by six in the morning but when he returned, it was not the fragrance of soil that followed him but rather it was the stink of alcohol. By the time he returned, his legs were wobbly, his clothes all dirty and his eyes moist. No one bothered to talk to him. Those who once considered him a master of his trade now frowned at the very sight of him. I never believed and neither do I believe now that the craftsman inside him had left, just that we mere human beings who boast of our superior knowledge and brains had forgotten, it the name of an artificial civilisation, that he was only perhaps being more loyal to our natural human self – not shying away from doing what he likes and living as he likes.
He hardly ever went home for it held for him some most heartbreaking memories. Somewhere amidst this life he isolated himself, from the material society, very willingly. He would work for those who were willing to give him work, though they weren’t many, and then get drunk with the money he earned. The pride on his face when Deepti topped the public examinations or the sternness in his walk when people laughed at him for walking with amma both seemed to be a distant past, too far fetched for this man.
Once he was sitting at his usual place in the park, watching children play, when a boy of around five walked past him. Thatha called him and tried to hold him by hand and speak to him. Just then the boy’s parents arrived. His father pulled him by hand and frowned at thatha. Then he turned to his wife and said in a rather loud voice, “This man who out of selfish ambition had sent his only daughter to a city she little knew and caused her a miserable death because of which his wife lost her mind and died, this drunkard now wants to play with our child. What a shame!” I was shocked and so I guess were all who knew thatha. Thatha just looked at the man and the child, smiled and walked away.
I had never seen the man in the locality before. I know not why he said that or from where he got that misconception. Could it be true that people found this immense bliss in hurting someone even if they knew nothing at all about them? After that incident thatha almost looked like he had turned rebellious. He would get pitch drunk, cuddle and sit with stray dogs, roll in the mud and lie on the streets. He seemed to have found an ecstasy in people laughing at him and a paradise in insults. People who came in search of his skill now left him. In that exceptional gardener they no longer saw the enthusiasm or passion that attracted so many people to him.
It was on a rainy day that someone came in search of him, a young man in his late twenties who lived in Mumbai and introduced himself as Gopi, thatha’s nephew. He did not seem to be aware of anything that had happened. Everybody was indoors and nobody could help him with his search. After wandering about the house and the street he found thatha lying in the park, drunk and drenched. He was so taken aback that he himself stood in the downpour unable to move or speak. After about a good fifteen minutes he was back in his senses and rushed to thatha and took him home. Thatha was in half senses and hardly recoganised the man and when he did he was a confused combination of happiness and grief. He kept on repeating all that had happened and saying that both Deepti and amma had betrayed him by leaving him all alone.
That evening Gopi went about talking to the elders in the neighbourhood about thatha. He seemed to be asking them for some opinion. Next morning there was a car waiting outside thatha’s house and Gopi was standing next to it. After sometime, thatha came out of the house with a bundle of his belongings. His eyes were moist and though he spoke no words, the silence that had engulfed him spoke a great deal about itself. He looked at the house with the longing of a child separated from its mother. It seemed like he was looking at amma and Deepti waving farewell from the veranda. After standing there for sometime, Gopi looked at his watch and murmured something in thatha’s ear. Thatha reluctantly entered the car and they left.
Gopi had put him in a de-addiction center in another town. It was one of those least scientific rehabilitation centers, the pity of some philanthropist or a tax-saver of some millionaire. There was quite nothing that it could boast of – no trained doctors, no therapists and the only medicines were thrashing and thumping. Whether Gopi only wanted to get rid of thatha or whether he was actually unaware of the proceedings, I know not. There was no way thatha could hold on in a place like that. He was confined to the four walls of the dirty dormitory and physical harm was a norm, food was little and unhygienic and a bath was a luxury.
Once during a beautiful drizzle thatha just could not contain himself and went out to enjoy the shower. Soon the drizzle took the shape of a good rain and some staff of the organisation found him standing in the rain. They dragged him inside and beat him till he was black and blue. Then they locked him in an isolated room. It was only after two days that they let him see sunshine. By then he was all frail and tired. He was so sick that he could not even take any food but they did not even call a doctor. Some of the inmates who took pity on him persuaded and aided him to escape from the place at night. So he got out of the place with whatever little money he had in his bundle.
It had been almost three months since thatha and Gopi left. It seemed like everyone had forgotten him. So when he returned, there was much gossip about the incident. Thatha was not drunk when he returned but he looked quite weak. People kept staring at him but he just walked past them and went home. He hardly came out of the house in the days that followed. Whenever he did come out he would tend the plants near the house and then go and sit in the temple. He spent most of his time in the temple, sitting and staring at the carefully sculpted deities.
It was after a month or so that Akshaya returned from abroad. She had heard from her friends about all that had happened and went to see thatha. Thatha was sitting in the veranda and looking at an old photograph of amma and akka that the neighbour had clicked just before Deepti left. He was overwhelmed that Akshaya had come to see him. They had just talked for some time when her parents came in search of her. When they found her talking to thatha her father slapped her and dragged her out of the house, pulling her hair. She cried, screamed and whined in pain but thatha could do nothing in his helplessness. The fact that her parents were against her even talking to him dampened thatha’s spirits deeply. He again found a final asylum in drinking to get rid of his pain. This time he was all the more addicted. He would work, get drunk and when he did not earn enough money, he begged and borrowed to get drunk. As his loneliness grew, he would go on drinking the whole day, lay on the roadside and role in the mud, not caring one bit about what others spoke of him. Some said he had gone mad while others believed that he was pretending to be so.
Once when he was lying in the park Akshaya came and sat down near him. She woke him and asked him to come with her. “Thatha, I cannot bear to see you like this...please come with me, I have cooked for you today,” she said. Thatha got up, looked at her and said, “What are you doing here? Go home before your father comes in search of you.” “He wouldn’t come for me anymore, thatha” she replied and smiled. They just looked at each other, got up and left. Akshaya had prepared quite a spread for thatha at home. She gave him water to wash his hands and feet. Then she spread a long plantain leaf before him and patiently served each of the many dishes that she had prepared. Then she sat by his side and kept looking at thatha. Thatha kept playing with the food, his eyes wet, but did not eat. After seeing this for quite some time, Akshaya said disappointedly, “Thatha why don’t you eat? Don’t you like the food?” Thatha looked at her, tears flooding his eyes, “The food is excellent dear...I am so proud of you. I was only thinking of Deepti maa, had she been here she would have fed me with her hands...will you do this one favour for this old man dear?” Akshaya could not contain her tears at this request. She thought of her own family, her parents both separated and indifferent who always told her that she was a burden even when they gave her all material pleasures and who had drained her of all emotional strength that after the incident at thatha’s house she had given up everything and moved out to live on her own in a small rented apartment with whatever she earned by working at a local pre-school, somewhere she envied Deepti more than anyone else. She went near thatha, took the rice and fed him with her own hands. Beyond any curry that she had prepared, it was her tears that made the mouthful delicious beyond expressions. Thatha got up from the place and walked away with such content on his face that anyone had seen only when he had heard of Deepti’s return. As he walked, he kept repeating, “Deepti maa...I have seen my Deepti maa today...my Deepti maa is alive...”
........
The other morning, he was found lying on the road. No one bothered to take any note of him. They thought that he would be up in some time but that didn’t happen. In the evening, he was still lying there and was stinking. There were flies all around him and blood was oozing out of his body – his dead body. People did not choose to go near him. Instead they called the municipality to clear the ‘dead orphan’. Some people came and dumped him into one of those trucks used for carrying dead animals and took him away.
I watched him as he went, dumped like a dead cattle…that overwhelming emotional human self made so insignificant in the quest of the pompous magnificence of superior civilization, a man of grand caliber, an exceptional worker, a loving father and husband, a mere victim of circumstances and yes, a drunkard.