A World Within

by Minakshi Chaudhry

  It brings me back to the thought about how very adjusting and compatible human nature is. Just a few years back the thought of lying to him never came to our minds. But now how very smoothly we go about it!

  ‘Yes, we are coming day after tomorrow … yes, we will come again … yes, we will take leave.’ Sometimes, these are not blatant lies but they are not totally true too. The family has fit in comfortably into his form, even I have forgotten when and where we erased this line between truth and lies.

  Vikram, he tells us, has to write and we have to help him with his book.

  I nod.

  ‘You will have to go with Vikram to different places for research. But then Rohit will be alone here. That is a problem. But it does not matter we will come and take care of him. It is a big project. Lot of time will be consumed in working on it. But you have to look at your house too, and take care of Rohit. That is more important. Vikram is on leave, for him it does not matter,’ I nod, understanding that he has lost his power to judge things.

  ‘You are already shining, now he has to shine,’ he says. I nod again.

  ‘I am so proud of you, beta. Whether your books get sold or not, the work that you have done is wonderful. Vikram cannot write this kind of book on his own. He will work through you. Maximum input will be yours. I am telling you this now because I don’t remember things later. How much do you get from your books?’

  ‘Only five thousand rupees a month,’ this amount seems to be appropriate, I calculate – less, not more.

  ‘Open a PPF account, put this money there because you don’t need it now. Your name comes in newspapers and magazines. Beta satisfaction is much more important than money. People know you and this gives you pleasure. This is a big thing.’

  ‘I will do so, Dadoo.’

  ‘My younger son, is he an officer?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo, in the bank.’

  ‘Is he a big man?’

  I nod.

  ‘What is he, a manager?’

  ‘Vice president.’

  He doesn’t like the sound of it. ‘Of one bank only?’ he asks.

  ‘Many banks are under him, he is incharge of several branches.’

  Now he is happy. ‘A very high position,’ he mumbles.

  53

  30 October 2011

  The obsession which turns to desperation is his desire for us to settle near him. He wants his children all around him ignoring that they too have a family of their own.

  He talks about this innumerable time in different ways: You can build a house here in Solan, we will be together. You can build a house on any of my lands, have you thought of settling down in Solan? He is so desperate that even basic logic does not register with him. When you remind him that Rohit has parents in Una he says, ‘Bring them here too, what are they doing there?’

  Now I see very little of his former self, just a few glimpses here and there.

  Recently I saw this glimpse. When I told him that we were planning to buy a flat in Shimla, just for the sake of having an asset, he immediately decided to shell out fifty per cent money for this purpose. To our surprise he asked us the price and made the calculations, ‘It is a good bargain, I will also put my share and then after a couple of years when the property value will appreciate we can sell it.’ I was delighted.

  On another instance he advised me to put some amount of money in FDs for future. ‘If you are saving some money every month then your future will be secure. You can also open a PPF account. Then the interest money keeps adding to your pension. Financial stability is very important in life.’

  I was staring at him dazed. He noticed this puzzled expression on my face and explained, ‘I have deposited ten lakh rupees each in the names of Asha and myself. Some savings are fine but not all money is to be saved. Money is to be enjoyed.’

  ‘If you want to construct a house in Solan you can construct it on the roof of the house that we are living in. I have constructed two houses, one for Deepak and one for Vikram. You can also settle here. It is your wish, there is no pressure. Choose as per your wishes. If you think Solan is okay, it is fine. If you think Shimla is okay, that too is okay.’

  He then remembered his locker in the bank and said, ‘I want to open my locker in the bank. I haven’t checked it for many years. Someone might have opened it.’

  ‘It was opened on karvachauth. Vikram and Mamma had gone there.’

  ‘Achha? Then it is alright. I haven’t gone there for a long time.’

  ‘Dadoo, do you feel scared that someone will cheat you or take away your money?’

  ‘No, I don’t feel scared even if my hard earned money is not with me. I have my regular pension. My sons are placed well. They are earning well. Vikram gets ninety thousand rupees, I think Deepak also earns the same.’

  ‘You will not believe how much Deepak earns!’

  ‘I think he also earns the same as Vikram.’

  ‘No, he earns more, much more.’ I emphasize.

  He ignores this. ‘I have also deposited money in the name of Maya, my sister.’

  ‘Yes,’ I mumble. This was some twenty years back.

  ‘Do you remember whether I deposited that seventy thousand rupees cheque in bank?’ he asks suddenly.

  ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t remember. Were you with me?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo.’

  54

  30 December 2011

  He always picks up the phone though he remembers nothing. May be he is hoping that he will remember. The undying love for his children in a way too makes him attack the phone on the first ring. Fortunately all his children call him every day. Anyway here is a general conversation:

  ‘Hello, my Dadoo,’ I say excitedly.

  ‘Haan, mere bachhoo [yes, my child],’ he says laughingly.

  ‘What are you doing, Dadoo?’ as I say this I know he will get confused so I quickly add, ‘has the newspaper come?’

  ‘Is there some news?’ he asks curiously.

  ‘No, I am just asking.’

  ‘It has not come yet,’ he says sadly.

  ‘Do not worry it will come soon.’

  ‘What is your programme?’ he asks, ‘When are you coming?’

  With a heavy heart, I lie, knowing that he will forget, ‘Day after tomorrow.’

  He laughs and happily says, ‘Very good, did Rohit get leave?’

  I lie again, ‘Yes, Dadoo.’

  ‘This is very good, I feel so lonely and I miss you a lot.’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo,’ I mumble. My heart cringes and squeezes with a sadness that comes from deep inside me.

  ‘Jaldi-jaldi darshan de diya karo [you must come to visit me more often].’

  I get a jolt – ‘darshan’! Oh how very sad it is that your parents now request you in this way but then I have to be brave and practical and I try to ignore his statement.

  ‘Go to the market in the afternoon, you will feel good.’

  ‘It is no use I do not meet anyone I know, I don’t know where they have all gone?’ he says pathetically. Before I reply he asks, ‘When are you coming?’

  ‘Dadoo, day after tomorrow.’

  He laughs, ‘Very good, did you get leave?’

  I say, ‘Yes, Dadoo, where is Mamma?’ I ask.

  ‘She must be here only.’

  I am about to ask him to call Mamma when he says, ‘When are you coming?’ And I repeat patiently my mind raking to change the track of conversation.

  But it is too late, now he is focused on this topic.

  It is as if he is stuck there and in less than one minute he asks me the same thing five times. How quickly he has started forgetting.

  55

  2 January 2012

  Today was another such day when he was really muddled up.

  ‘Did Rohit get leave?’

  ‘Yes, Dadoo.’

  ‘For how many days? One month?’

  I exclaim, ‘Dadoo, can he get leave for one month?’

  He is
surprised on the other end, ‘But don’t you have to write the book?’ he asks incredulously.

  Oh God! He is thinking that I am Vikram. I patiently say, ‘Dadoo, that is not me, Vikram has to write the book.’

  ‘Is it not you?’ he asks confused.

  ‘No, Dadoo, I am Rewa.’

  ‘I know that,’ he mumbles on the other side still unsure, ‘Now my mind doesn’t work. Is there no medicine for this?’

  And as before, may be a thousand times, always at a loss for words, when he says this I say, ‘Dadoo, don’t worry, don’t think too much.’

  ‘Par main kya karoon, mera dimaag bilkul khatam ho gaya hai [but what can I do I have lost my mind completely],’ he mumbles, ready to cry.

  ‘There must be some medicine for it?’ he asks.

  It goes on and on. I put the phone down, he may call again. I know that when I talk to him for the first time something triggers in his brain may be he remembers me and then forgets that he has already talked to me and keeps on calling. What does a man become? But then again for the millionth time I say to myself, he is eighty, he has lived a good life and he is not dependent on anyone. One day he has to go like everyone else. I am lucky to still have him and what matters in the end is love. He loves me and I love him.

  56

  8 January 2012

  I am here in Solan spending a few days with Dadoo, trying to understand how he passes a typical day, how he handles himself in the outside world. And I can only say that he is a brave man. I think at times like this our instinct to survive takes over and everyone becomes brave. It is genetic, so ingrained in each one of us. Unfortunately we fail to see and recognize this survival spirit in the comfort zone that we have created with the growth of civilization. More alarming is that we are losing this instinct, our comforts are making us shallow and meek.

  The first thing I do when I get up is to switch on the TV and announce, ‘We have to watch the news.’ He looks at me in surprise. ‘Is there something special?’ He asks.

  ‘Yes, Dadoo.’

  ‘What?’ he enquires anxiously.

  ‘Just watch,’ I murmur putting on DD News. In between his attention wavers but I say ‘Look, look,’ and he gets back to listening to the news. We have tea with biscuits which, as I nibble, I tell him are very tasty. He looks at them suspiciously. I ignore him. Then he picks one up. When he has finished eating I exclaim, ‘Weren’t they tasty?’ he frowns and mutters, ‘Theek hai [they are okay],’ and then picks up another one.

  Well then good, at least he has had two biscuits. After about thirty minutes of the news watching I am relieved, the newspapers have come, I can sense that he is itching to say ‘There is a lot of tension, we have to do something’. But I subtly ignore and place the paper in front of him as I leave for yoga knowing that he will read the papers for about half an hour. And I am right I have hardly finished when he comes out of the bed room, looks at me and hurriedly comes to hug me. ‘You have got up?’ he asks. I nod.

  ‘How is the weather outside?’

  ‘It is sunny, Dadoo.’

  ‘What is the date today?’

  ‘Eighth’

  ‘Month?’

  ‘January.’

  ‘Day.’

  ‘Sunday.’

  ‘Where is Rohit?’

  ‘In Delhi.’

  ‘When will he come back?’

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Then will he stay here for two-three days?’

  I nod though knowing that it won’t be possible.

  ‘I have a lot of work. I have lot of problems. I am dependent on him,’ he says gravely.

  I frantically search for a topic to change his attention and lo and behold a cat enters. He is distracted, ‘Isse bread do, isse bread do [give her some bread].’ And for the next fifteen minutes the whole family including him gets busy with the cat.

  And then he tells me a story, ‘You know this cat, how we became friends?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Many years back, she used to come here. I used to do gardening and I would get very angry because she would spoil my plants. So whenever I saw her I would scream at her loudly and throw pebbles and even a slipper to scare her off. But, because there was a dust bin nearby, she would keep coming into the lawn for food. And then gradually I noticed that when Asha was in the lawn she would come and move around her legs rubbing herself and purring. When I came along even though I had stopped screaming at her, she would run away. I thought that this was unfair, I just wanted to protect my plants and so I started building friendship with her. It took her sometime and now she is my friend. Why I am telling you this is because like us animals too have feelings, they are also scared of being hit or of dying and they also want to be loved. If you look at the basic instincts, forget about brain, education and modernization just survival and love, they are very similar to us.’

  ‘This cat initially used to run away on seeing me. But then she saw that I was not chasing her. And she slowly started staying back though at a safe distance in the beginning. Then I started calling her. She realized that this man wants to love her. Now the situation is that she stays with me, around me.’ We are now outside in the lawn. I am thinking of what he has told me. Then I dramatically announce, ‘Dadoo, all your plants are drying.’ This makes him move fast.

  ‘This is not so,’ he says anxiously, looking intently at a potted plant where a flower, purple and yellow, is blooming. To my chagrin I realize that this plant is well-watered and then in a corner I do find a plant, which looks dry and I take him there.

  As expected this activates him, so another half an hour goes in which he potters and waters his plants. Breakfast is ready. Mamma calls out. He looks at her angrily and snaps, ‘I have already eaten.’

  Mamma gets irritated. I intervene. ‘Don’t call him for the next fifteen minutes,’ I whisper to Mamma. And to him I say loudly, ‘Dadoo, you want to take a bath?’ He shakes his head slightly. ‘You will feel good,’ I say matter of factly.

  ‘Okay, then I will bathe,’ I say.

  ‘Is the water hot?’ he asks.

  I nod. He insists, ‘Have you checked.’ I nod. He persists, ‘Did you switch on … what is it called …’ he stutters.

  ‘Geyser. Yes,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t want to bathe,’ he replies.

  ‘Okay then, I will go.’ So I go to take my bath, he follows me to the bathroom repeating the same things.

  After fifteen minutes he is sitting with his breakfast of methi aur makki ki roti and dahi. And he happily tells me, ‘See how tasty this is. Sabji and roti together in one,’ he adds.

  Suddenly his attention is diverted, ‘I have a lot of problems,’ he mumbles. I nod. ‘And you know I forget what problems I have.’ I nod.

  ‘You remember them and then tell them to Rohit, he will solve them.’

  I nod.

  ‘When is he coming?’

  ‘Should we go to the market, Dadoo?’ I ask to divert his attention.

  ‘Market?’ he asks surprised.

  I nod vigorously. ‘Let us go.’

  ‘Will Asha go? And Vikram?’ he asks happily.

  I know he loves market and people and he wants company.

  ‘We will ask them,’ I say adding, ‘get ready.’

  A few minutes later he comes out wearing the vest on top of the shirt.

  I gently tell him, ‘Dadoo, this is not a sweater.’

  He gets agitated, ‘Why, this is a sweater.’

  I can see anxiety and tension on his face. Vikram takes over. ‘It is a sweater but we are going to wear another sweater.’

  ‘Why?’ he snaps at him.

  ‘Because this is not going with your pant, see this is brown while the pant is navy blue,’ he explains.

  He glowers at him, looking down at his pants. Vikram has already brought the sweater and coaxingly makes him change. ‘Why is Asha not coming?’ he snaps.

  ‘She is not well,’ I say.

  He mulls this over and then
goes inside, ‘We need money,’ he mumbles. Mamma gives him three hundred rupees, ‘Is it enough?’ he whispers to her.

  She gives a small nod and I quickly intervene, ‘They are a lot, Dadoo, let us go.’

  He looks at Vikram, ‘Vikram, are you not coming? Both my daughter and son with me, I will feel so good.’ He smiles.

  Vikram is speechless but before he can find words to react I take hold of Dadoo’s elbow and say, ‘Let Vikram do his work, it is only going to be Rewa and Dadoo together.’

  He laughs heartily and we step down on the road.

  57

  As we walk down the road towards the market, he says with all seriousness, ‘I have lived here for so many years and I don’t know anyone here. I don’t meet anyone in the market.’

  ‘Where have all these people gone?’ he shakes his head.

  I am at a loss. Fifty years he has stayed in Solan and how come he doesn’t meet anyone whom he knows.

  He goes on, ‘Now watch, I will not meet a single person whom I know. What do they do sitting cooped up in their houses?’ he asks innocently.

  I want to say may be they are all dead but I refrain myself. It will hurt him.

  ‘No one comes to our house and we go to no one’s house,’ he laments.

  Does this happen in old age, I wonder! All your friends disappear. He had a lot of friends when he was young. Anyway I am alert and as we move ahead some four or five people greet him. A few he acknowledges and the others he doesn’t even get to know that they are greeting him. It strikes me – his memory.

  Memory loss is not so simple. Like I keep on telling him, ‘So what if you have forgotten?’ I understand he doesn’t remember these people and that is why he doesn’t know them and that is why he feels so lonely. Though people are there – his friends, acquaintances, his colleagues – but for him they are not there. His brain cells have blocked them.