I was going through the heaps of files
when my clerk came in and said "Sir the train arrives at 10.30 am and we
should leave by 10.25 am to reach the station on time.' I nodded my head. This
was the day I have been waiting all through my years. This was the day my
mother promised to visit me and I was anxious to see the light in her eyes and
the contentment of having made her son a purposeful man.
The moment had come. It was not
difficult to spot her in the crowd. A frail, lonely woman with a cloth bag hung
to her shoulder getting cautiously down the steps of the compartment. I went to
help her and extended my had, "No need... I can manage", she said
avoiding me as she always wanted to be on her own.
My mother, who was in her late
seventies, walked slowly shooting questions at me "How is your health? How
is your new job?” so on unmindful of the people and surroundings. While I led
her to the car she said, "Why did you bring a car. Isn't it expensive? I
told her that the government proves it to officers and she said nothing.
I felt quite disappointed at not being
asked as to what I was doing.
My mother had a very bad childhood.
They were very poor and often went to sleep without anything to eat. As if to
relieve themselves from the trying times, she was married off to a man much
older than her but, finance-wise, reasonably sound. But the fate had something
worse in store for her. She was left alone with five children to take care of.
Having seen much difficult times, the challenge before her did not deter her. She
went to work in the fields to sustain her children and I was the fourth among
them. Each passing day tested her patience. The farm produce bartered to her
for the labour did not suffice to buy her the much needed clothes and often the
medicines for children. She was forced to look for alternatives that her labour
could earn some cash. She started working as a part-time cook along with her
work in the fields. She always behaved like a miserly woman when it came to
spending. Though illiterate, she was good at domestic economics.
But what she always cherished most in
her life did not happen. My brother dropped out of schools for silly reasons.
This pained her for long until she resigned to her fate. She often saw some
hope in me and believed that I would fulfill her wish. Soon things changed
rather fast. My brothers grew up, got engaged in petty vocations and raised
their families. My mother often seemed contended seeing her children and grand
children. However she did not cease to work and often said she would toil till
God permitted.
Meanwhile, I went to town as a teacher
and my visits to hometown became less and less frequent. But, I kept receiving
replies from my mother. She grew very old and frail as the times passed by and
her faculties began failing. And she never liked to move out of her home which
she had built on her own. And she hardly knew that I still continued my studies
and was working hard to realise my dream of becoming an officer in All India
Service.
Luck smiled at me, though late. When I
passed the test, I immediately shot a big letter to my mother while preparing
to leave for training. I wrote to her reminding all that she told her children,
particularly about the importance of education. Soon, I got a post card
containing a three-sentenced mater illegibly written with an ink-pen. Therein
my mother said she felt very happy and asked me to take proper care of my
health and not to spend too much. I was lucky enough to be allotted to the
state I belonged and worked in different places in various capacities. The much
awaited posting as a collector came at last and, this time, I was determined to
press my mother to visit me. When I wrote a letter conveying my intention, she
wrote back that she would come all alone but on one condition. She would stay
for a brief period as she was not accustomed to going places and live
elsewhere. I felt very glad that she was finally coming to witness herself the
fruits of her labour.
For most of the time she kept quiet.
The next morning she observed all those around my bungalow and the scores of
officials visiting me. She grew more curious when people from a remote village
came in large numbers. "Who are they, what do they want from you?"
she asked. I explained to her that they are poor petitioners and want the government
to build houses and hospital for them and also want electricity to their
hamlets.
"Oh! You are helping the poor. It
means you got a big job. Good," she said.
I wished for long to hear such words
from my mother and as she showered appreciation finally, I stood there
speechless unable even to thank her for what all she did as tears stalled any
movement in me.
ends/
Published in Pratibha India, Vol XXIII,
July-Sept 2006.
That Night
Having been in the metropolitan city, it is now little difficult
to imagine the life back in the village where I spent my childhood. Imagine a
place sans electricity, television and cell phones? But, even after two
decades, the village did not change much and so was my mother.
When Seetya Naik sent his son Seenu Naik to school, the other
people used to feel jealous of him. He laboured hard in the field from sunrise
to sunset and put all his money on his son. When Seenu Naik got selected for
government job, there was celebration in the hamlet abutting our village. Many
vehicles passed through our village and some elders from our village too went
to the party thrown out by Seetya Naik that day.
Then everyone in our village began thinking seriously about
sending the children to school without fail. Back at home, my mother kept
repeating “Son, the agriculture is no more the same as it was. Study well and
get a government job like Seetya Naik’s son. You can live on salary.” The
children going to school were looked at with great reverence and they had
everything for asking. They had new clothes and also the slippers to save their
foot from scorching sun.
Sensing trouble from me, one day while going to the weekly
shandy, my mother took a stick from the broom, measured my foot and left. By
evening, she bought me new slippers. I was very delighted with my new
possession.
When some elderly neighbour came asking for me to get a
letter written to their far away kin, my mother used to feel very proud of me.
She would request me to help them as they are illiterate. I was only studying
seventh class in the village.
The days were short then. There was nothing to worry about.
Life was full of happiness and days were spent carefree. For graduation, I
moved to Hanamkonda town from my small Lybarthi village, 40 kilometres away.
After coming to town, I felt quite happy as the town abuzz with speeding
vehicles by sunrise and fully lit up by sunset. There were movies; friends and
lot of activity that killed the time that was hardly took note about. With
mother kept insisting on a job, I was determined to secure a government job
like Seenu Naik. I prepared hard and appeared for several competitive
examinations. I aspired to join a Bank but in vain. At last I was selected for the
sub-inspector post in police department and felt happy.
When I went to the village, I found my mother was not all
that happy. “Why did you join that police job that everybody scorns? Did you
not study enough to get revenue officer job like that Seenu Naik,” she sought
to know.
“This is not a mean job. In course of time, I can become
officer in this department also,” I tried to reason with her.
I joined the duties, married and moved from place to place
on transfers with my wife and two children. My mother religiously wrote one
letter every month with the help of some school going boy in the village. “Come
home early, guard your health and save money,” would be the essence of every
letter.
“Save money? Where is the money to save? Thinking that I
would need more money for education of my son, I joined in one chit. Thinking
that I would need money for the girl when she grows up, I joined another chit.
And to realise the dream of owning a two wheeler, I joined third chit. About
half of the salary is gone for three chits,” I wondered.
For a man dependent on salary, there will always be deficit
by month end. Of course, I did not get into debts as my mother feared, but
learned to adjust with what we got. Everything seemed fine.
Whenever the colleagues gathered over a cup of tea and when
they shared their childhood days in villages, something appeared missing from
the life. Everybody felt the same. Happiness was missing. The high profile jobs
and salaries did not offer that happiness somehow. But, one has to get along.
One day, I received a parcel by post. I eagerly opened it
and to my surprise I found a new shirt and a letter from my mother. It gave me
a great joy and I wondered how she got my measurements. When I went to village during
Dasara festival, I inquired.
“Why did you send me shirt? I would have bought a readymade
one,” I said.
“Our Pasha came to me asking for work. He was badly in need
of money. When I went to the shandy, I found the colourful cloth and thought I
can get you a new shirt and provide work to Pasha as well,” she explained.
“How much did you give to him for that,” I posed.
“He asked for Rs 50, but I gave only Rs 30. He was so happy,”
my mother said.
“It is too meagre. In Hyderabad,
tailors charge Rs 100 for that,” I said thinking about the cost of living
there.
“How can I give what he demanded? Of course, I will give him
a quarter bag of paddy later,” my mother said.
“What is the use? The paddy you give costs more,” I said
once again thinking of prices in Hyderabad.
“Son, the village people are a contended lot. We all labour
hard and share our fruits. We hardly bother about measuring profit and loss
between one another as the townsfolk,” she said impatiently apparently to end
the discussion.
As I tried to sleep, a question haunted me. Was my mother
trying to tell me the principle that formed basis of life in village or asking
me to have a principle to lead rest of my life happily? As I tried to find the
answer, the night slowly melted away.
Ends/
This story was
published in museindia.com in March 2010 issue.
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