Memories
Memories of Baba, my Grandfather
My earliest memory goes to his college days; when he was professor and head of department at a university college and our joint family lived in his government quarters. My biggest testimonial is my picture with him, while we sat on his bed, in palathis; he had a cup of tea in his hand and I wore my red jacket with white kurta-pajama, and had a red teeka on my forehead. I and my Baba. He was always like that; I don't think he looked any different in all the thirteen years we were together. He was always the father figure; the eldest man I ever met, and the wisest of them all.
When he died, our entire family was together for the rites. Then we, the children of the family, did a complete survey on him and our family. We even drew our family tree. We also came to know of many things, like as a child he went to attend school riding an elephant. When we came to now that, suddenly our lives changed. Going to school atop an elephant! How cool! What was our fault that we were forced to be transported in rickshaws? But what struck us more was how life changed and how he managed all that. He saw all that, the elephants and the lands, the dacoits and the loot, the changed political conditions, the demise of his brother and loss of his first child and all that we couldn't know. Life was more than a fairy tale, but why didn't he tell us all!
Baba was eldest amongst his three brothers and a sister. One of his brothers had died in the floods he looked after his family. Both of his nephews never felt the absence of a father figure. My grand parents had six sons and one daughter; all received educations till masters and are well off. Above that, they had two of my grandmother's nephews live with them till they finished education and got jobs. This is something that our millennium parents should see with eyes wide open. They didn't read a parenting guide, but grew better human beings as children. A gentleman that he was, my mother told stories of how one day she had not put salt in daal by mistake and he said nothing; he just finished the meal and left without a word
He performed long pujas every morning, on his aasana made of dear's skin. When we would pass nearby, we would go and sit by his side. When he saw us, he would apply chandan on our foreheads and then we shall leave. He was a religious man, but I remember that he ate fish, or some non-veg. That he did because, I guess, for health reasons. He was never a superstitious though.
He was always calm and composed; in all situations. The real test came when one of his brightest sons met with an accident in Delhi. A blue-line bus passed over his stomach, leaving him seriously injured on the road. Luckily someone admitted him to AIIMS, and they saved his life. He remained in bed for more than a year, but the fact that he came out healthy as before, was nothing but a miracle. People said that it was wholly because of Baba's punya. I know that life couldn't be that unfair to him. Even today, when our family would talk of miracles, this one would definitely be on the top of the list.
During early days, our railway station at Motihari was very small. And the samosa wallah there on the platform was his favourite. Many times, he would bring in garam samose to home. What a delight those were! Now a days when I can eat anything anytime I like, those days seem like a different life, when the surprise element in those sweets and sibling rivalry to get more, made us more happy than today's costliest items.
My elder sister being the first daughter in her generation got a lot of attention and love. That made me compete with her and think of her as nothing less than an enemy. Once Baba took a test; he asked us to write some words as he spoke. I think my sis did better than me. And then Baba asked, "when do we use apostrophe and when an inverted comma?" I couldn't answer, but she answered that. That was a matter of big shame for me. I was always considered the bright one, and here she proved her talent in front of Baba! The fact that I still remember the exact scene, with Baba sitting on the bed, we two on the sofa, and all the exact things, tells me that I took that incident rather seriously.
And then there was a greater shame. When our extended family met, children were asked to sleep on the same bed of some of the elders. Often, I was with Baba. One morning, when I got up, I found the mosquito net was not in its place and Baba was awake, at an early time in the morning. The wooden rod for the net was broken. Baba told me that I had fallen down from the bed in my sleep and had broken the rod. I was out of my mind! I considered myself nothing less than a hero those days; how could I do such a silly thing? That was one time I got even something like angry with Baba! How could he say that I did that silly thing?
The only other time I didn't like him was when power used to go off in-between the TV shows, and he used to exclaim, "Abb..?" On hearing this, I always got angry, because of my helpless condition in the case of a power-cut. At that time, I was getting into my teens, and I used to get furious on many things and occasions, so I won't take this seriously.
Once he took me and my sister to visit the goshala in our neighbourhood. What an experience that was! We saw so many cows some eating, some standing, and no one going to school! That was like another world for us.
Then he retired from his job around 1986. I remember the morning. There were great marigolds in front of our house, and people came collecting for flowers. Then we came to know that they were collecting flowers for his felicitation ceremony. When he returned back home, he had two garlands with him, shining and amazingly beautiful ones. He gave those one each to me and my sis. I still remember our happiness at his generosity.. If we had got those beautiful garlands firsthand, we won't have parted with those at any cost!
When he retired from service, we shifted to our newly built house near our old quarters. We were very attached to our old quarters. One day, my mother thought to try feeling how it was like going back under the same roof. When she went to the same quarters, she didn't feel any attachment; everything seemed alien. That is why we say, home is where home makers are.
After retirement, Baba shifted to our Muzaffarpur house. Our ancestral home in the village was mostly occupied by the family of Baba's brother. So he built another new house in the village. He built one more flat in our Muzaffarpur house; he wanted to complete six flats, one each for all his sons. But that he couldn't finish. He had to manage our agricultural lands also. So even after his retirement, he remained active like ever, I think it increased more after that.
Then came the marriage of our youngest uncle. There is a very interesting story here. Our aunt's father himself was a renowned scholar and poet. This being the last marriage of his children, he was in a hurry. As you know, dowry and gifts are a common practice in that region. The bride's family promised a lot of things, and in particular, a car. They asked which car we would prefer. Baba and others left all to their discretion. And on the final day, here comes a second-hand car. And the bride's father said that he had promised a car, not a 'new' car! This was one of the rare occasions when Baba got angry, as he felt being cheated. He returned the car back then and there. The issue became a case study for us but nothing more than that
Baba knew astrology; may be that could explain what happened when he crossed 70 in 1993. Soon he declared that he wanted to pass the responsibilities to his sons. People asked why he was restless, as he was only 70. But he saw what was to come, and he started sorting things out. He was busier than ever before. He was suffering from high blood pressure for a long time. Those days, he couldn't get time to get his medicines once they got exhausted. One evening, he came back from market and sat down. A boy looking after him brought water. But he didn't pick the glass up. He moved his neck sideways, and didn't say anything. The boy thought he was angry with him. He went inside and told aunts that Baba was angry with him. When they came in, they sensed something was wrong. They found him unconscious. Uncle rushed to bring the doctor. Doctor told us that he had suffered a brain-haemorrhage. They rushed him to a nursing home in Patna. He had suffered severe stroke and there were blood clots inside his brain. Doctors couldn't help much, but they kept him under observation. All our family reached our home in Muzaffarpur, and waited for good news. He was kept on life support system. Bit his condition didn't improve. Then after a week, one night he took his last breath. My father was there at his last moment. They said he just took a long breath and that was his last one. They brought him to our Muzaffarpur home, I still remember the early morning scene of that winter. My sleep got disrupted with some noise. Someone was weeping. I understood everything; but remained in the bed. My elder sister got up and went out. Then she returned back sobbing. Even those days, I had fierce competition and fights with my sister. But I never imagined that she could weep. Then I went out and got downstairs. Baba was on the back seat of the car. Mother and aunts were weeping. One by one, they went and touched his feet. I too went and touched his feet. My cousins asked if I was weeping. I wasn't but wanted to; in fact I was feeling guilty as I didn't weep. May be boys are like that only. Then we brought his body to our village and performed the last rites. People recalled his younger days, and how good he was. Some people in the village dreamt about him, those were all good dreams.
Time passed. Uncle's family occupied his bedroom and his bed. And we never saw his morning prayers, his leather bag, his Horlicks bottle and Britannia biscuits My uncle keeps his picture in his room, but for us, he never occupied that photo-frame. That is why whenever we went to our 'loved' and 'longed' Muzaffarpur home, we never missed him. It was always like he was in the next room. Even now I feel as if he is still there in Muzaffarpur, while I am out. It doesn't feel like he is not here. He and his voice is still fresh in memories. Mother says when we are in distress; we should remember our elders like him, that gives us strength. As I reach the last lines, my eyes got wet. Baba, we love you.
