A World Within

by Minakshi Chaudhry

  I get upset and I snap back, ‘Everyone has to go, you are not the only one.’

  He nods and says, ‘This is philosophy, beta.’

  I am little hesitant but then I ask him, ‘Are you scared of death?’

  He is thoughtful and then says, ‘What is scary about it? No, I am not.’

  I persist, ‘The physical pain? How intense the pain will be when you leave this world?’

  He is a little surprised and mutters, ‘Physical pain is nothing. It is just a body. Earlier limbs were removed when operations were done without anaesthesia. That time too humans endured this pain and lived. I am not scared of physical pain,’ he said emphatically.

  ‘Then what?’ I interrogate him.

  After a long pause he says, ‘Moh aur maya – love and desire. In this world these two things suffocate us. It is my love for my family that frightens me, I don’t want to leave them. I am scared that they will not be able to survive. My children will be insecure and I don’t want that to happen.’

  I am amazed at his obsession with us but then what do I know about parenting. I am not a parent.

  ‘And what is your desire?’ I ask.

  ‘There is no limit to desires, they keep on coming, multiplying. They are always there.’ He says giving me a look which says, ‘Don’t you know this simple truth.’

  ‘But—’

  He interrupts, ‘—My desire is to see my children rise high, my desire is to see Deepak. What has he become now?’

  ‘Vice president.’

  ‘So what will be his next promotion?’

  ‘President.’

  ‘Yes, I want to see my son as president and want to see this daughter of mine to get an award for writing. When are you getting an award?’ He asks.

  I smile, ‘Don’t know, Dadoo.’

  ‘But you must get an award, no one has written so many books in Himachal.’

  ‘There are people, Dadoo, who have written many books,’ I murmur.

  ‘Yes, but they are not popular.’

  I have nothing to say, I am embarrassed. I want to change the topic when he repeats, ‘Moh—maya are the two things which have made life miserable on this earth.’

  ‘According to me without this there is no meaning to life,’ I say.

  And he says, ‘I agree. But this itself is a torture, it is a suffering.’

  I give in a little and then say, ‘Fine, there has to be a balance, not much, not less, Dadoo.’

  He looks at me and shakes his head and with his wisdom replies, ‘Arrey beta there cannot be a balance that is why there is so much of suffering. Everyone knows this but love and desire are two things which are not in control. I am telling you this because no one has made this “balance”.’

  Love and money. Whom do I love madly? Rohit, my parents, my in-laws? Can I make a balance? No, I can’t, love just pours out, it is not measured. And money? I have to have little but then, what is little? If someone says I will give you millions will I turn my back? I am not sure.

  These philosophic discussions used to go on and on, sometimes on life, sometimes on being in the present – and sometimes on death.

  ‘When you reach my age you will know that kuch nahin hai iss duniya main, yeh sara mazak hai, drama hai [there is nothing to life. Everything is a joke, a drama]. The problem is that you get to know of it very late, by then you can’t turn back, so my advice to you is “enjoy the present, spend money, go places, do what you want to do because when you become old there will be nothing left”.’

  ‘Did you do what you wanted to do?’ I ask him.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he says laughing proudly, ‘but I could have done more,’ he adds still smiling.

  I am happy for him and I realize how very different he is from other parents. Whenever Rohit and I plan holidays, call friends in our house for dinners and parties, go for picnic, spend money on food and books, read books he encourages us and says, ‘This is life, don’t wait for something to happen because nothing happens in the end and unfortunately you realize this very late and by then you can’t do anything.’

  ‘This is all a drama, if you have the right attitude to live then enjoy every moment in whatever circumstances you are. That is the only thing that you will gain in life,’ he often says.

  Now I do understand the reason for his love for food, his love for people, discussions, gossip, interaction, his love for seeing new places and with that his love to shower people with gifts. He was always a giver and his boisterous laughter always echoed in our house. Laughter is very essential and portrays happiness and joy in a family. There are very few people I have seen laughing so openly.

  He says, ‘Everyone has to pass his time but if you pass this time enjoying every moment, then this is what belongs to you, that is what you gain, the rest is rubbish. All else is useless. Bas enjoy life, wahi apna hai baki sab kuch bekar hai [enjoy life, that is what you have, rest all is futile].’

  ‘Something happens and we say, “Look how strange life is. We don’t know what will happen the next moment.” Actually that is what life is, you don’t know what will happen in any moment. Had we known it, it would not have been life. At least not what we know as life. Not being able to know what lies in store is life.’

  ‘But, Dadoo, is this all not philosophy?’ I interrupt.

  He shakes his head, ‘To live a beautiful life you have to philosophize it sometimes.’ And then he goes back, ‘Moh—maya are two things that hang like a curse on our heads, we can’t escape them,’ then he contradicts, ‘But these are the crucial anchors and provide zest to life.’

  ‘Can’t a man be brave and bold enough to live alone?’ I ask casually.

  ‘Everyone needs support in life. We need company to enjoy things. A lone man is a scared man. If I need help today I will count my friends, relatives; I may not avail it but their presence is a source of comfort.’

  ‘What is relationship?’ I probe.

  ‘If you take out relationship what is left: eating, defecating, sleeping! Nothing more. It is the soul that brain and body asks for.’

  ‘Life is so complicated,’ I complain.

  ‘In one way it is simple too. Enjoy “now”. There is no later. What you can do today, you will not be able to do tomorrow. So “now” is the time to enjoy. Once you have basic security – food, shelter, clothes, and a regular income – why waste time, live to the fullest. There is nothing if you look at the world in the materialistic or even in spiritual sense. Your happiness is all that matters every day for you. Saving money is useless unless you enjoy spending it. Property is meaningless if you can’t use it, my father left lots of lands and even money. I did not use it, so it is waste. There is a hundred bigha land in our village, Kuljar, lying waste not being used. What is it for me?’

  ‘Everything is temporary and nothing is permanent except change.’

  I nod.

  ‘You have to spend the time allotted to you, time kaatna hai bas [we just have to kill time that is all]. I have seen the world. I visited England and America during the time when very few ventured to these far off places, it was considered wasting money, very few had seen the world at that time. It’s easy now,’ he reminisces, ‘but I did what I wanted to.’

  ‘You come to Solan, don’t worry about building a house. I can afford to feed you. It is just two of you. No worry at all. Don’t buy land, don’t build a house. I have enough.’

  43

  Since our childhood we have heard Dadoo talk relentlessly about the importance of education and the need to promote people in different fields.

  ‘Even being handicapped,’ he said, ‘cannot stop anyone from learning. There can be different ways, different schools and you will always find a way to be educated.’

  His thrust was not only to educate everyone in our extended family or in his village but also in the families of his friends. He would tell us stories of his three friends whom he had sent abroad to England and America for further studies. They later settled down in these far off l
ands where they became rich and succeeded professionally. Two of them died last year. The third still calls him and credits him for making his life.

  It was Dadoo who despite all family pressures sent my differently abled cousin to study in Delhi. He was the one who ran hither and thither with forms for different courses not only for his daughter and sons but also for those of his brother’s and neighbours.

  I realize that one of the biggest reason why Dadoo could not get along with Mamma’s brother – my mama – was this: Daddy said that Mamma’s father had done very wrong by not educating both his children. Moreover, her brother was indulging in a greater wrong, a sin, towards his children by not taking proper care of their education.

  He felt that money, power, fame is nothing compared to an educated mind. Education brings you security, satisfaction and of course with it comes the practicality of life, including money, power and fame. But it does not happen vice versa.

  He never gave tuitions for money. I asked him once, ‘What if someone wants to learn and someone wants to teach. Is it not right that the teacher teaches and student learns and pays the fees? What is wrong with this arrangement?’

  He said thoughtfully, ‘It is not wrong on the part of the student but it is morally and consciously wrong on the part of the teacher, since he does not do his work properly in the classroom, that is why the student wants to learn outside the class.’

  Many of his students would come to the staff room and also to our house with their problems. He would attend to their queries.

  When the tuitions were banned in Himachal in 1992, he was extremely excited and happy. He wrote numerous letters to editors and to the chief minister’s office lauding the decision. He also taught many poor children at home, students who were not even in his class. He said, ‘It is better that I clear their doubts otherwise they will lag behind because they do not have money for private tuitions.’

  Sometimes I feel that he could have started an academy and taught for free. It would have kept him mentally and physically alert.

  44

  25 June 2011

  I am reading the book Who Moved My Cheese?

  ‘What is this book about?’ Dadoo asks.

  ‘It is …’ I trail off, how do I explain?

  ‘What is cheese?’ he asks intrigued.

  ‘It is …’

  ‘Paneer,’ says Mamma.

  Daddy frowns, ‘Does it mean, who moved my paneer?’ he asks innocently. I just don’t know what to say as tears fill my eyes. I recall some three years back he had read this book and said, ‘The writer has explained changes and challenges in life in an interesting way.’ And now cheese is paneer!

  Suddenly he shifts gears, ‘What is Deepu’s position? Is he working in a bank?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo, he works in a bank, he is the vice president.’

  ‘Vice president, is this a senior position?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo, very high position.’

  ‘Which bank?’

  ‘Deutsche Bank, this is a German bank.’

  ‘Does this bank have a branch in India too?’

  ‘No, Dadoo’ I want to keep it simple.

  ‘So that means he cannot be transferred to India?’

  ‘No, Dadoo, moreover he is very senior, there is no position of an equivalent level here in India.’

  ‘Oh! What position does he hold at the bank?’

  ‘Vice president.’

  ‘Really! In which bank?’

  ‘It is a German Bank.’

  ‘Can he not be transferred here?’ There is no stopping him, he goes on and on till I pick up the book and leave the room to escape.

  45

  2 July 2011

  We take Dadoo for a walk on the forest road. He loved this stretch, and used to say, ‘Early in the morning a brisk walk brings bounce and vitality.’ Today he is very hyper. Some of this energy will be released in a brisk walk, Rohit thinks.

  ‘I have a piece of land on the way,’ he says.

  ‘It is not on this road, Dadoo,’ I hastily reply.

  ‘I know there is, you do not know. I have a plot somewhere here and another one a little ahead. It has been a long time since I have been here. Now I have forgotten everything,’ he whispers.

  I am quiet, so is Rohit. There is no use arguing with him.

  ‘Rohit, do you know the patwari [village accountant] of this area?’

  ‘Yes, Daddy.’

  ‘Ask him to get the details of this land. But what will one patwari do, I have so many plots, they are scattered at different places. For each area there will be a different patwari. You will have to ask each one of them to help you in identification, only then will we get to know the exact details,’ he says seriously.

  ‘I will get the details,’ Rohit murmurs.

  ‘I have another plot near the water tanks. It is an amazing plot – totally flat and sunny. It is a first class plot. Let us go there,’ he says excitedly.

  ‘The tanks are in different direction, we will go there some other time,’ I say exasperated.

  ‘Okay, then let us see the ones that are on this road. Here if we keep on walking I have a plot ahead of the village. I have at least ten to fifteen plots here in all,’ he says confidently pointing vaguely.

  He is scaring me.

  ‘I have a plot in Shimla too.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ I lie.

  ‘Where is it?’ he asks quickly.

  ‘Near Tara Devi,’ I sheepishly look at Rohit, he smiles. We have become polished conspirators.

  ‘Is there a house on that plot?’

  ‘No, Dadoo, just a plot.’

  ‘Is it lying unattended?’

  ‘It is safe, Dadoo, no one has encroached it.’

  ‘Is it fenced? Is there a boundary wall there?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo,’ I sigh.

  ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo.’

  ‘When we go from Solan to Shimla, there is a place on the way and I have a plot there too.’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo it is in Tara Devi only,’ I say firmly. This is just too much. There is a need to stop this conversation. How much will we lie!

  ‘No, there is another place, which place is this?’ he persists.

  ‘Kandaghat.’

  ‘No, what comes after that?’

  ‘Shoghi.’

  ‘Yes, I have a plot there too. I don’t know where else I have plots, I have forgotten. We will have to enquire.’

  ‘Okay, Dadoo, we will try to locate these,’ I assure him. I am scared, what if he asks me to take him to his plot in Shoghi? Oh God, Ritika – my friend – has a plot there, I will tell him that it belongs to him!

  46

  We often make comparisons between the elderly and children. So many times one has heard, ‘Take care of the old people, they behave like kids.’

  In reality, this is so different. It drains you completely. Children learn new things every day while old people forget things daily. Taking care of the elderly does not mean mere boarding and lodging, you should have ample time in your hands to listen to their stories, to answer their questions repeatedly and explain things to them patiently. You should also have time to take care of their daily routine – bathing, combing their hair, wiping their mouth clean after meals, cutting their hair and nails …. It is a mammoth task.

  The elderly have a baggage full of experiences and they have rigid habits. They live with their successes and failures. Even when they are losing their memory, their brain cells keep on throwing up these strains anywhere, anytime. Remembering and not-remembering at the same time sets in motion an unending chain of despair. Patients with dementia lose all their behaviour patterns and acquired learning. Their minds are broken and they are not sure of anything. Being awake and being in a dream is the same for them. One day they keep on crying and the next day they are completely withdrawn and quiet. On some days they sit with their head in their hands in sheer despair while on others they are hyper-active.

  With their abil
ity to give meaning to the world around them gone, they resemble a little baby but this is not a happy state. This is not the innocence of a small child. This is a chaotic world of a man who is not able to come to terms with what is happening to him. Watching him losing his mind is agonizing and breaks you down physically and mentally.

  47

  3 August 2011

  Today was a great day. I got a call from Dadoo on my cell phone after I don’t know how many weeks. There was no Vikram or Mamma to help him out with the number: He dialled my number himself, and he was so alert and so full of life, laughing boisterously.

  ‘Where are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I am in the library.’

  ‘What are you doing there?’

  ‘I am working on a book on Bilaspur.’

  ‘Oh. Do you know the name Amrit Lal, a very important man of Bilaspur?’

  ‘Of course he was my Dada, your father,’ I said happily.

  ‘Do you know he was the adviser to the Raja of Bilaspur.’

  ‘Yes,’ I mumble.

  ‘Well, he was not exactly adviser, more a consultant. He didn’t get paid through the royal treasury; you have to write the truth. It won’t be nice if you distort the truth,’ he said gravely.

  I was amused. ‘What about you? Dadoo, were you the first MA in Bilaspur state?’ I asked.

  ‘I am not sure but I think I was the first MA and also I was the first Bilaspuri to join as a lecturer in government college. All the others were from outside the state. If you want all this information you should talk to Malkiet, he knows everything.’

  My heart gladdened, it is after months that he remembered this name on his own. ‘I will do that,’ I said.

  He persisted, ‘You will have to go Bilaspur and ask other people. Don’t write a book that is not true and something which will hurt the sentiments of others.’

  I feel guilty. Is he talking about himself?

  ‘You will not do that, will you?’ he persisted.