A World Within

by Minakshi Chaudhry

  Since he was not into business, he started to invest in land and shares, which he did wisely. This was his way to equal the lifestyle of his wife’s family. He wanted a better life and he wanted to prove to her that he was not less than anyone. She always understood that. Moreover, this trait of investment had also come to him from his father who was a farmer and a moneylender.

  Dadoo probably thought that Mamma would not understand investments and other things, so he looked up to his children to fill this space. When we were in our teens he would discuss with us everything – household budget, money matters, current affairs and politics. He talked about our education, careers, marriages and what we wanted from life on one to one basis. He would bring us books from library – the classics and the popular fiction both – and would encourage us to read.

  But when we grew up, went out for education, got married and started our own families he was left alone. Suddenly he had no one to talk to, and with Mamma there was a block. For many years he talked to us on phone and had long conversations but then gradually he lost interest in phone conversations and wanted us to be near him.

  He was obsessed with his children, when two of his children were with him he wanted the other two to be there too. Those who were present to hug him, love him and kiss him made him happy, but only for some time, as his mind would drift to the one who was not there and he would be sad.

  I also think that Dadoo always felt that Mamma was very beautiful, a headturner, whereas he was not good looking at all. So many times he mentioned this, especially the part when Nana-ji first came to see him, and rejected him ‘because of his looks’, because his ‘one eye was damaged’ since childhood when a thorn had pierced it and his vision was very low in that eye. It was only when they did not find any other suitable match did they agree for the marriage. According to him, it was his education that brought them back.

  He never gave much importance to looks. While Mamma came from a family where dressing up and looking good was an essential part of life and going out in the evenings and eating out was a culture. Since she was younger to him by ten years, he started to feel that she was still young and beautiful and full of life, while he was getting old. He started going to the market alone to bring vegetables and groceries and would tell her not to go out needlessly. At times he said that she did not go with him to the market as she thought that he was old.

  ‘Mamma was beautiful indeed,’ said Mala didi, ‘Whenever she went to the market the shopkeepers would stop weighing things on their scales and were mesmerised by her beauty, the customers would also not mind as they too would be looking at her.’

  29

  Many months ago, Dadoo was in one of his philosophical moods, he said, ‘Being old is not natural. It is unnatural.’ I was intrigued and I delightfully goaded him to explain.

  He said, ‘When people did not live for a long time their bodies and minds remained strong and healthy. There were not many diseases. Moreover, there was less stress in life. It was like living for a limited time and then gradually fading away. Now we drag on. When we are in our sixties we wish to live for five more years and then five more and it goes on. We have become greedy.’

  He further added, ‘When humans were evolving, life was very short. Average life span was twenty or thirty years. All the diseases that hit you with age like blood pressure, diabetes, heart problems and cancer were absent. You reproduced and the drama of life was over. That is what Nature wants you to do. Now, with the help of medical science people tend to add years to their life. This is a problem.’

  ‘But Dadoo death is inevitable and there is nothing wrong to have better quality of life in the old age with medicines and treatment,’ I try to reason with him.

  He shrugs, ‘I don’t know.’

  Later, I was astonished to read that recent research also suggests that perhaps life wants us to reproduce and once we do that we are no longer important. The hormones that strengthen reproduction when we are young lead to diseases and degenerative conditions when we age.

  30

  10 January 2011

  I am losing my father.

  Two days back we had got a call from Vikram, ‘Daddy is not well.’ I talked to him on the phone and he was sounding very low. I can still hear his feeble voice on the phone just saying, ‘Aa jaao bacchon, aur apni mummy ka dhyan rakhna [come my children and take care of your mother].’

  ‘Dadoo, you are there to do that,’ I tried to sound strong. He replied, ‘It is no more me now, things have gone beyond me.’ I uttered some reassurances and kept the phone down. The next day Rohit and I left for Solan.

  I rushed into his room anxiety ridden. He was lying down. I was shocked to see him. In just ten days he had changed so much, the complexion of his skin had darkened and he looked so feeble and lost underneath the thick quilt.

  I kissed him mumbling ‘Dadoo’. He opened his eyes, looked at me and started sobbing softly. It was a very different kind of crying, no tears, but as if he was sobbing his misery out. He put his hands on my face and kissed me fervently ‘Mera bachhoo aa gaya [oh, my child has come],’ and he wept inconsolably.

  I didn’t know what to say and then Rohit entered. He again did the same, fervently kissing him everywhere and touching him. Mamma tried to pacify him, ‘You will become more weak, don’t cry.’ But he kept on sobbing hard.

  I sat beside him holding his weak hands and then after sometime he said, ‘Don’t mind me, mera mood theek nahin hai [I am not in a good mood.]’

  I said, ‘Why should we mind, Dadoo?’

  He said, ‘No, you must be thinking kya pagal ho gaya hai ye [has he lost his mind] and is spoiling our moods too.’

  I shook my head and said, ‘We will never think like this.’

  But I knew that he was not listening to me, he was lost in his own thoughts, he had stopped eating properly. He was eating just a little bit for the last three days and as Vikram brought breakfast for him he started crying again.

  I said, ‘Dadoo, eat a little bit.’

  ‘I am not hungry.’

  There was nothing much to do, we all sat around him and then after sometime he said, ‘Aaj main bahut khush hoon mere sare bachhe mere pass hain [I am very happy today all my children are near me].’ And then he asked Mamma, ‘Idhar aa tujhe bhi main pyar kar loon [come here let me kiss you too].’

  Mamma said, ‘Kaisi batein kar rahe ho [what are you saying]!’

  He again said, ‘Idhar aa.’ I pushed Mamma forward; he kissed her on the cheek and then said, ‘There is nothing to worry. If children are watching, let them watch,’ he feebly joked. This brought smiles on our faces and then he slumped back again on the bed. A little later when the maid came he opened his eyes he called her towards him and blessed her saying, ‘Aaj main bahut khush hoon. Is khushi main isko thore paise de do [today I am very happy, give her some money].’ Mamma nodded. He said, ‘Abhi panch rupay de do [give her five rupees now].’

  I said, ‘Dadoo, panch rupay? Panch rupay ki to ek toffee bhi nahin aati [one cannot even buy a toffee for five rupees]. He said, ‘Ye aise hi dene hain, khushi main dene hain [this is a token, I want to give out of happiness].’

  I said, ‘Dadoo pachaas rupay de do [give her fifty rupees].’ He looked at me shocked and said, ‘Das se zyada nahin [not more than ten].’ I nodded taking ten rupees from Mamma and giving it to the lady who was rather surprised.

  At lunch time we forced him to have a piece of bread and the crying started all over again. He enquired about the well-being of my father-in-law and took some other names that I did not know; I assured him all of them were fine.

  ‘Do they remember me?’

  I nodded and just to pep him up I said, ‘Rajni is coming.’

  ‘That is very good,’ he said, ‘Woh mere bhai ke ladki hai [she is my brother’s daughter].’And then he looked at Vikram and said, ‘Tujhe uska dhyan rakhna hai [you have to take care of her],’ and then told Mamma ‘Usko bhi paise zaroor dena [give her some money too].’

>   The entire day he lay exhausted. Oh, how different he had become from the active chirpy man, full of life and vitality!

  And then he said to me ‘Your brother has come, you have to help him.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You have to help him to write such a book that he shines like a star.’

  I again nodded.

  ‘You are already shining like a bright star in the sky but now you have to make him a star too. Will you help him with the book?’ he asked earnestly.

  ‘Yes,’ I mumbled.

  He repeated this off and on, at least twenty times. I didn’t want to go to sleep in the night but then I was tired and Dadoo, after having a cup of broth, had closed his eyes.

  I can’t explain the joy I felt early in the morning and how my heart gladdened when I came down and saw my Dadoo not on the bed but standing in his night gown and cap near the closet containing his files. Jumping excitedly I hugged him, ‘Dadoo, you are okay?’

  He looked at me blankly and then started crying, ‘Ab mera kuch nahin raha, main pagal ho raha hoon. Main poori raat nahin soya [now there is nothing left in me, I am losing my mind, I could not sleep the entire night]. Rohit had asked me to fill some forms but I don’t know how to fill forms. Sab kuch khatam ho raha hai [everything is going haywire]. I am forgetting everything.’

  ‘I know, Dadoo, it very bad,’ I said.

  He shook his head and said, ‘You can never know how bad it is, I am becoming mad and I will never be better again. My life is slipping away; I don’t remember who I have spoken to? Who is who? Now look, I don’t even know whether you stay in Shimla or Chandigarh and when did you come here today or yesterday or how many days back.’

  ‘Dadoo, it is fine.’

  Crying pitifully he said, ‘It is not fine.’

  ‘What can I do?’ I said and then he controlled himself and said, ‘Come every week to meet me.’

  I nodded, ‘I will do that.’

  ‘And there is so much of work, I don’t know anything, my bank, my files.’

  I assured him that Rohit would take leave from work for a day or two and sort it all out.

  ‘When will you come?’ he asked.

  ‘After a few days and we will stay with you for a week.’

  He stopped crying immediately and then said, ‘You are my daughter, I am sharing this with you but don’t tell about my condition to Rohit. He will think his father-in-law has lost his mind, and I will feel very insulted. Don’t tell him anything.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Tell him I am fine and I do not forget anything.’

  I nodded again and realized that many a times in the last nearly one year when I had gone with him to the market and acquaintances greeted him he just laughed boisterously and said ‘Hum shagl karte hain apas main [we are just having fun].’ Now I understand that he didn’t want anyone to know that he had forgotten them, which means if not fully his senses were still alert.

  Is this a man’s ego or is it self-respect? It is so strong even when everything around you is falling apart. He still tries to cover it up: tries to act normal knowing that nothing is normal.

  Sometimes I think he knows he will never get better. It’s kind of a slow death. Oh how lucky are those who just leave this world instantly or suffer physical pain only. For the first time I felt that I would prefer that my father leaves without losing himself totally. At least he would depart as a person, a sane person.

  The strain, the heartbreak and the chaos that come with this disease overpowers the family members. It is so easy to loose patience. As the world of your loved one falls apart in bits and pieces, the family members go crazy.

  Dementia means a lot of stress, anxiety and sleepless nights. Financial help is important. It is with the finances that domestic help, caregivers, nurses, and even companions can be arranged. However, in middle-class families it is so difficult to convince to spend money on keeping a full-time professional help. They prefer keeping the money stashed in banks or dole out as shagun in family functions and even offer to the gods and goddesses praying for the wellness of the patient. We normally do not realize that many people are needed to handle people with dementia with dignity. I had to persuade my mother relentlessly to agree to engage a full-time domestic help.

  31

  31 January 2011

  Today was so different. I keep on saying this but he was different. For the first time in months he talked so rationally and acted normal.

  I can’t say that he was depressed – there were so many words of wisdom and so much of practicality. And it shook me. Frankly I too wanted to know what was there in the depth of his mind when he was talking, and as I listened nodding and making appropriate noises, he was able to communicate what lay deep down. We are sitting in the sun on the roof of our house.

  He says: ‘Look at these plants, admi se yeh zyada kismat wale hain [these are luckier than humans], you know why? Because they do not have a mind. Same is the case with animals. But with humans because of this mind there is so much of suffering; it is a punishment which is being given to us. Life is a drama, there is no distinction between us and the plants and the animals. The only difference is the mind.’

  ‘And when this mind is no more, there is pointlessness,’ he says, as I listen.

  ‘Anyway this is life – just like my plants, a seed is sown, a small plant sprouts, leaves come out, a bud comes out, flowers bloom and then they wither away and die. Our life too is similar. I accept it, I know. This is not only happening to me. It will happen to everyone. My parents have gone, their parents had gone, I too shall go. But I am so tired and confused. All this worry eats me up. I am concerned about my children all the time. I now want to let go. I am eighty. How many people live till this age? Look around you. Not many. What else do I want? Eighty is a ripe old age.’

  ‘Now enough is enough.’

  ‘Has a will been chalked out?’ he asks suddenly. I nod. ‘Power of attorney should be given to Asha, tell Rohit to make the papers. And then I shall be at peace,’ he says. I nod.

  I try to philosophize, ‘Life and death are not in our hands, Dadoo.’

  He shakes his head, ‘I do not know how to explain this to you, but I know that I do not have many days left, I feel it inside me, I can sense it, this life is over now.’

  ‘And if you or someone else tells me to jump from here, I will do that without even blinking an eyelid without thinking of what would happen to me.’

  ‘Are you scared of death, Dadoo?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head, ‘I am waiting for it. I want to go. You will have to take care of your Mamma. She has no one, no brother, no sister, no parents.’

  I am quiet when he suddenly asks, ‘When will my pension increase? How much will it increase?’

  ‘Seven thousand rupees.’

  ‘Will your mother get it?’

  ‘She will get half.’

  ‘When will it increase?’

  ‘15 May.’

  He nods contemplatively.

  ‘I will have to wait till then.’

  He is so sure, it is as if he has made up his mind, it scares me. Are we really discussing death, I ask myself several times as we converse.

  ‘I have two desires left, one I want to go to my village for the last time. And second, I want to meet my younger son, is he coming soon?’ he asks and I nod.

  And then he talks about a book that he is reading, ‘It is a very good book on life by the Dalai Lama, you should read it, Rohit should read it. For me it is too late. I should have read it twenty years back but you don’t have to make the same mistake. Read it now.’

  ‘We will read it,’ I assure him.

  ‘When you get old, it is the worst phase of life because you have all the time in the world but the others have no time for you. You become useless. And you disturb others. Your mind does not work. You say things that you don’t want to say, there is no self-respect left. Your family members tell you to keep quiet. Sometimes I am afraid, I mull a lot before
saying anything. Will it be appropriate, will I disturb someone by what I say?’

  ‘Are your children and wife bad, Dadoo?’ I ask terrified of what he will reply.

  He shakes his head. ‘No, they are not bad. It is a natural process. It will happen with everyone. I have all the time in the world. To me different things are important, they have very little time. They are in such an age that their mind is occupied with so many other things. There is a generation gap of thoughts and what is important to them is not important to me and what is important to me does not matter to them.’

  ‘We just don’t fit in.’ he says quietly.

  Somehow, I understand.

  Today was the first time that he forgot about his profession, a job that he did for forty years when he asked, ‘Was I a banker?’

  ‘No, Dadoo, you were a mathematics teacher.’

  There is a silence so heavy, far heavier than words.

  32

  5 February 2011

  Rohit and I are sitting in the lawn, Dadoo comes and places his chair next to Rohit. I get ready to listen to their conversation.

  ‘Rohit beta, I am very worried and tensed.’

  ‘But, Daddy, there is no need to be tensed.’

  ‘You don’t know there are so many problems. Especially with the taxes.’

  ‘There is no problem, Daddy, everything has been sorted out and now you need not worry.’

  ‘Do you know what the problem is?’

  ‘Yes, it was about the investment of capital gains, we had to construct a house, which we are doing and it will be all right.’

  ‘Do you know everything?’

  ‘Yes, Daddy.’

  ‘What is it all about?’

  ‘You had a plot in Gurgaon, which you sold and the money that you got was invested in capital gains account. Now we had to re-invest this in three years. For one year we tried to find some good plot, but we did not get a suitable one. Then we thought that we would buy a flat but we did not get the right kind of flat. Now we have decided to build a flat in Solan above the roof of this house, everything is decided and we will invest the amount here, and there will be no tax.’