Hi, my name is Shankunthala. My father named me so as he thought I was the most beautiful girl child on earth. We lived in a Joint Family of 26 people in our ancestral house. My father and his 4 brothers, their wives, their children along with my aged Grandma. There was someone to take care of the youngest member of the family to the eldest. Growing up was fun in this atmosphere. The carnival would begin early in the morning when the women folk would get on with their kitchen work, some taking care of the cattle, some getting the hot water ready for bath, few sweeping the courtyard… The work was equally divided under the leadership of my father. The men would get ready to go to the fields. We kids used to help the elders in whatever small way we could. But the best was to go outdoors and play in the lap of the nature. Evenings the household would have finished their dinner around 7.30-8.00 PM (very early in today’s standards) and all the folks would gather in the courtyard to the light of the wick lamp and moonlight. The men would discuss various topics from their work to politics, the women about relatives and we kids would gather around our granny who was an ocean of epic stories. I used to go to sleep listening to her stories. Though I studied till only 6thstandard, going to school was such a fun activity. Walking on the edges of the green paddy fields, crossing the streams of water, carrying umbrellas in the rain, splashing water... There were at least 3-4 guests in the house on any given point of time. Phew… it has remained such a beautiful dream.
I was married at 19 to a well read engineer with the Government and traveled to various places due to his transfers. Both of us were plucked out from the comforts of a Joint family to that of a nuclear family. We found ourselves very lonely till two of my kids were born. One male and one female within a span of two years. Gradually, I got used to the concept of nuclear family. Back home too, the large joint family started disintegrating because of the children getting scattered in various places, due to marriages or their jobs and deaths of the elders. The ancestral house, which for me was an epitome of joy and activity gradually got abandoned and today, is in a dilapidated condition with snakes and frogs as inhabitants and weeds grown all over. It brings tears to my eyes looking at that beautiful house and the memories stringed to it.
I and my Husband gradually got used to our cats nest, with four of us. Kids grew up so fast that the first greying of the hair and the first visible wrinkles were a revelation. There was certain amount of comfort we drew in our lives to the extent that guests were welcome to a certain time but beyond that it seemed like a nuisance. I was surprised myself at this new found attitude of mine having grown in a joint family. Maybe over a period of years we tend to adapt to situations around us and draw comfort in that.
My daughter seemed to wiz past my eyes growing into a beautiful damsel and getting married off to a handsome boy based in USA. It was with heavy heart that we had to send her off, especially my husband who was very close to her. Within two years, my son flew off to Australia for higher studies. My husband had to borrow some more money for my son’s endeavour. Eventually he found a wife in an Australian girl. I was not too comfortable with this but I couldn’t do anything about it too. He got married there and did not come home from the day he left. That’s fine I guess, it’s their life.
My husband and I had no complaints about life. We struggled all our lives with the average income of my husband to give a good education to our kids. Look at where they are today. Well settled in their lives. What more could we ask for. We built our own house in this city too. Technology proved good for us as cell phones and internet made our contact with the kids easier. We even visited USA for my daughter’s first delivery and helped her out. We later came to know through friends that they call it a ‘Diaper Visa’. That sounded funny. But then it was okay with us. She is after all my daughter and I had to help her in time of need.
Few things we don’t account for in our lives and they are so imminent. We definitely were not growing younger and the first signs of Sugar and BP cropped up. Steadily the number of tablets being swallowed
increased too and one day my husband had a heart attack and he passed away. It took two days for my son to reach home from Australia. Exactly five years after he first left us. I didn’t know what to feel when I saw him. Joy to see him in flesh after so many years or sad that he had to see his father in a lifeless form. My daughter couldn’t make it as she had her thesis exams going on. Poor thing, understandable.
There was a lull after the storm. It had been two weeks since my son had come. It was time for him to leave. Poor thing, understandable. He had his life to live. He was in a dilemma about what to do with me. I was in the fag end of my life. Why should I bother him? My husband and I had decided that in case something like this happens we would join an old age home. My son took me to this old age home at the outskirts of the city, packing all my personal belongings from our beloved apartment. My son led me by the gates of the old age home holding my hand. I remembered the first day I held his hand through the gates of the school. I was as anxious, if not more, as he was on the first day of the school. It was time to say our goodbyes. I knew that the chances of me seeing him again were remote. He hugged me, cried and said sorry. I thought it was absolutely fine. He need not be sorry about anything. He is a fine son of mine.
The life at old age home was not that bad. It was like me going back to my childhood days. Back to the joint family. Only difference was everyone here was old. Initially, my kids used to call me almost every other day. Gradually it trickled down to a weekly affair to a monthly affair, to once in a while affair. Poor things,
understandable. They were busy with their own lives.
I don’t know whether I like this place. Yes, all things like food medicine and hygiene are taken care of. But there is something lacking. All the inmates here are aged and/or sick. We don’t have much to talk about. All we talk is about our sickness, how bland the food is, about our children and grandchildren who aren’t with us etc., We don’t get to see kids playing around. How I wish I could see small kids play around and make noise. We don’t get to see much young people other than these nurses who go around their jobs mechanically. How I wish I could see some young couples around. How I wish I could speak to them about life, my experiences. Every other week someone dies here. And that is further depressing. That is the reason; I don’t like to make friends anymore. I can’t bear the loss of this friendship. I wish, my kids and I were to live in the same house, like the good old days. For some strange reasons, I am reminded today of my granny a lot. She had a lovely old age surrounded by her near and dear ones.
