April 12, 2008

During a recent visit to my hometown, I happened to bump into a relative’s house, which once upon a time was a centre of celebrations, a household that was an abode of peace and serenity consisting children of all ages.

I still have the vivid picture of the old palatial house, located on a hill top over looking a beautiful plantation of coconut and areca trees. A long water stream at the edge of the plantation was reminding the quiet flow of a passing river. 

But when I visited the place a thirty something years later, everything looked different. The head of the family was long gone from this world. The plantation had lost its charm and passion. The once gorgeous green mountain looked too barren beyond its recognition and the whole place sadly looked deserted and grey. The surroundings once decorated with lush green paddy fields had fallen flat and the sound of birds and singing creatures had fallen silent.

As I opened the giant gate and set in, the grand old lady welcomed us at the entrance and said: “Come on in, I was aware you people have come down on vacation. I was wondering whether you still remember me at all”.

She was staying all alone except for the company of her three dogs and a dozen-full animal fraternity. The old house that had seen quite many seasons was being brought down to the ground and a new - most modern house was under construction.

As the workers were busy in their chores she explained - “Everything is in a mess, son. It is sand everywhere as we are demolishing the old house to build a new one”

As we took a round around the house we could sense the huge investment bestowed upon a huge palatial construction. As far as I was aware, her sons and their families were settled abroad. One was settled in the US, the other in Canada and the rest of them at different cities around the world.

“My children wanted to have a new house with all the modern amenities since this house was getting smaller and murkier, you see” explained the old lady.

Then she took us around to show us the grandeur and beauty of the place. The interior of each room was tastefully done up. It looked as if most of the fittings were imported from abroad.

Then she went on narrating the specialty of each room:

“This room belongs to my eldest son and his family” she said. “He comes down once in six years or so along with his big troupe of eight children.”

Then there was the other room being built for his second son who had five siblings. The next three rooms were reserved for her other sons in the Gulf.

“I don’t have to bother much about the furnishing” said the lady.  “Whenever they come down, they furnish their respective rooms according to their taste. They also bring in whatever is required”

After a walk around the construction, I realized that all the ten rooms in the house have been earmarked for her sons, including a room across the terrace.

“This room and the adjoining terrace are for my son, the only priest in our family” she said. “He is the only one who comes down once a year to spend his quality time with me”
 
As we came down the stairs and entered the big hall my curiosity compelled me ask her:
“But Grandma, where is your room?”

For a while a pin drop silence was felt by all of us. It appeared as if neither the people accompanying us nor the lady herself was expecting a question of such intensity. I could sense a few sentiments and colors ravishing on her fragile face. But she managed to show us the reason why a separate room was not required for her.

“Who needs a room towards the fag end of one’s life, son” she said. “Look at this big hall which was the only room when I was brought into the house as a bride. The hall was quite big enough for my husband and our eight children. We had everything we needed for a decent living here. After my husband went to the Gulf we added two more rooms, but my children always preferred to study and sleep in this big hall or at times on the adjoining veranda”. 

Then, pointing at the king size teakwood bed n the corner she said – “Look at this big Divan which must be 100 years old, perhaps more. In the olden days we used to keep all our belongings under this bed. We never had a cup board to store our clothes, jewelry and other possessions. Our whole life was operated out this piece of wood called ‘Kolmbi’.

We quickly sensed that the grand old lady is trying to lead us off the track. We asked her: “But didn’t your children feel the need of a separate room for you?”

“I presume not” said the old lady. “But I am content with this hall and thank them for not demolishing it. What more a human being needs to lead a normal life? I don’t think my children have any other intention. It was I who personally prevailed upon them not to spend their money on a separate room for me. After all, the entire house belongs to all of us. I can use any room that I want.”

My son who was a silent spectator to this conversation till then, said: “But grand ma, all the room are under lock and key”

The old lady had no answer except for a few tears dropping down her graceful face.