It may sound cliched but i have to say it again- education comes from all sides and this time i got my education through two. One my own son and the other his friend. Can't differentiate the most important from the least of the two that i received so i'd better talk about it.
But first the conversations and the scenario...
The son had just returned from office and after dumping his corporate bag on the dining table surveyed with some satisfaction writ over his countenance, his living room of the shared apartment. It looked made up and thus hugged his mother for the effort taken to transform the room which before he had left for office the same morning looked ravaged by hurricane. Then-
Son- Baby! it's seems u've slogged the entire day...it was pointless explaining the bus and the route... and sure instead of being there in the Botanical park u were here working like a beast...what did u eat...haan! tell me...oh let me guess...have u eaten or not...
Baby - oh beta stop fussing over me...and get freshened up quick...we'll eat together. i have made something with all colors of bell peppers into it just as u would like...hurry! go take a shower and i'll lay the table.
Sonna expectant and excited about ma ke haath ka khana hurries to his room but returns and hugs his Baby again exclaiming in delight- Gosh! i don't feel like touching anything. The closet looks so tidy...Baby this time do remember to teach me how to fold shirts and how to arrange all of my clothes this way...
Baby - Accha! accha! get ready fast na...the food will get cold...
Sonna hurries off to materialise in his lounge wear a few minutes later looking as relaxed as an infant bathed. Wet hair, uncombed, in boxer shorts and sleeveless vest in the kitchen to offer help. One look at the once overflowing but now empty laundry basket which were two and his face morphs into a grimace.
Sonna (hurls all in one go)- Ma...where is Varun's laundry...what don't tell me u washed those too...ma u should not have done that...it's an invasion of privacy...don't u know that...he isn't even here...u should've asked first.
Baby now Ma who was arranging salad on to a plate felt a wave of panic rush through. " Hey Bhagwaan! why didn't i think of that...invasion of privacy...invasion of privacy..."
Within seconds Baby aka Ma taking out portions of the colorful food on two plates was ready with food and her cheery recipe on damage control.
Thus stoic in her composure and brushing aside the consternation feeling a sense of pride for her 22 year old son having the wisdom that she the 49 year old didn't have had said, " Chalo! sit down let's eat. Don't worry Varun will not get me wrong on this and i shall call him and apologize...chalo... taste and see... "
The food was eaten sans arguments and some guffaws. Sonna and Baby watching the favorite sitcom Frasier on the TV. (Connected via the hard disk. An honest attempt to show all the seasons that Ma aka Baby would've missed and must watch with him)
Few days later when Ma was back to base in her own country busy fixing her own house which looked like it needed some scrubbing here and there as she had been absent from this scene for about two weeks, a parcel arrives. Scribbling her signature on the courier's form hastily she finds it hard to prevent her eyes from getting moist. For good twenty minutes or so she caresses the parcel...runs her fingers over the letters which to her had more than just her postal address. Muttering within her breath...Sonna has sent me a gift...Chanda...Raja...Cheenoo...Guddu.. My Son...oh why did u have to do this...Sonna i miss u so much...wish u were here instead...oh beta...
The moist eyes had started to run. She didn't feel the need to open the parcel. Maybe later after her bath...after her pooja. Not now.
Thus afterwords the parcel was opened very carefully. Everything about the parcel was worth preserving...the outer covering, the bubble wrap. the gift wrap...everything and also the GIFT. But the note card that was inside the gift turned out to be the most PRECIOUS. It said,
"Dear Shivani Aunty,
Thank you for turning our house into a home. With lots of love, Varun."
Precious
She thought after her bath and pooja she would get over with the barrage of emotions flooding her and that she should be in a saner state instead what she looked like now was a perfect picture of a cry baby. Tears running here, running there and oh shucks some from even her nose. She remembered about her own call that she was supposed to make but didn't make. She remembered that she had defaulted on that apology. But that was not what had ripped open the floodgates of the tear dam. She was crying out of sheer joy. Joy when she saw the contents of the parcel. Immense joy for having emerged a winner at least this one time.
She sobbed and said to herself, " i knew it! i knew it!...
Varun did read my intentions...oh Varun...Bless You Sonna...
Sitting on her bed and waiting to tide over the emotions and get sober she kept hugging the gift...her favorite color...wondering how Varun could have known about the color and her penchant for handbags, she waited till she was normal enough to have a cheery conversation.
Then she typed a message on her mobile and read twice before the dispatch feeling frustrated at how words did not quite match all that she needed to convey. Consoling herself that maybe she can do better when she speaks to him, she sent the message to Varun. Then a call to her own son. Ignoring the fact that he might be busy in his office and that it may not be a good time to have hello, hi, wassup conversation she anxiously heard the phone ring on the other side. She had to tell Sonna, share the joy and ask him so much.
He had answered promptly and had relieved her of all. "Ma! Varun had asked me about your favorite color, and he knows you have a thing for shoes and bags. Ma you can call him in the evening...moreover he will call you and talk to you himself...he has been meaning too... he had just called me to say that he's received ur message..."
After she had exhausted herself out over her admiration on the gift, she hung the gift on the bed where she lay her mobile next to the pillow and the note in her hand. And before she dozed off she had read the note over and over again.
"We call an intention good which is right in itself, but the action is good, not because it contains within it some good, but because it issues from a good intention."
"The closing of a door can bring blessed privacy and comfort - the opening, terror. Conversely, the closing of a door can be a sad and final thing - the opening a wonderfully joyous moment."
Last Sunday there was a very interesting article in the magazine section of The Hindu ( newspaper) written by Swati Daftuar. And since the education i had was first on invasion of privacy and later on good intentions i can understand why the article flashed in my mind's eye.The fact of the matter being that i'm not too comfortable with ' closed doors and averted eyes'. Maybe i had my growing up among nosy neighbors and home where i never felt the need for any privacy. But times have changed and even when i feel like gatecrashing all i do sometimes is call up before but most of the times just give up and wait for a chance meeting. This new world which seemed to expand earlier while i was growing up has shrunk for me too. Just like the writer of this weekend column called Armchair With A View. The article title being ' The strangers next door'.
http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/the-strangers-next-door/article4605589.ece
-:Image Courtesy:-
i hope this picture of mine is able to capture the weather in my part of Delhi. Needless to say then how one feels with that respite from the uncomfortable heat that sees one running indoors and wanting to stay put next to the AC. i just wish i was fit enough to go outdoors and roam around but since i can't i'll try to roam around amongst favored climes and desired pastures in my imagination.
