This
piece was written a couple of years back by a grand daughter. I, her mother,
chanced on it a few days back. I share
this – in grief and in pride. Both the feelings are for the two women in this
piece- the grand mother and the grand
daughter. And also for all the old people out there- alone and lonely- but
still keeping their heads high.
‘In youth the days are short and the years are long; in old
age the years are short and the days long’.
Last week I embarked on my annual visit to my Nani’s. I
hadn’t seen her for over a year and though I knew that she couldn’t hear
properly and also had a severe knee problem I didn't think that it was serious
enough to have any impact on the days which we were going to spend together. So
I sat happily in the bus which was going to take to my destination and hummed
soft melodies while we passed the lush green fields and villages of Uttar
Pradesh, all the time thinking of how I was going to surprise her and the food
that she would be busy preparing for me, the places which I would visit with
her……
As soon as I reached,
I rushed inside looking everywhere for the welcome that I had been dreaming of
all through my journey. I searched for her everywhere- in the living area,
kitchen, and balcony, all places that I had thought she would be in and finally
I reached her bedroom. My legs skidded to a halt and my heart sank. Age had
caught up with Nani. She was lying on the bed, but it seemed as if it were her
ghost lying down. She had shrunk to half, her face was pale, and her hair tied
in an untidy bun but worst of all she didn’t even realize that I had come. It
took me a good ten minutes to shake her out of her stupor and make her aware of
my presence. I stared in shock at the
house which had once been a place fit
for any king , with huge lawns , tall trees, flowers of all varieties and all fruits and vegetables grown
in the backyard itself. Now, all I could
see was an unkempt lawn and dust shining
on the furniture. Where earlier no meal was complete without at least four vegetables,
rice, chapattis and salad, today Nani and I had a humble meal of rice and dal.
There was no one to cook the food….
Earlier,at night Nani would tell me stories of how the house would be full of people, their
laughter echoing in all the rooms. During festivals the kitchen would churn out
all the sweets that could be prepared at
home. Now, she was the sole inhabitant, meeting some friends once in six
months, her daughters visiting her for a week or so every year and on festivals
she would have a mithai box sent to her from someone or the other, but
otherwise it was just her with her memories.
If you think that I have
portrayed a picture depressing enough and that things cannot get worse than
this, , let me tell you I have more to say. In the subsequent days that I
stayed, Nani took me with her to visit a few of her old friends. I saw that
the situation was as bad, infact at times it was pretty heart wrenching. People, who in their prime were High Court judges and
barristers, were now hobbling about with
swollen feet, running from pillar to post to collect their pension, to fight
against corrupt companies and claim
money that was rightfully theirs ,but
after sometime, exhausted and disheartened and
realizing the futility of their actions , giving up.
Friends, my purpose
of writing this article is not to force you to show sympathy with my
grandmother but to give you a personal picture of the condition of the aged in
our country. Since the system of living with children is slowly finishing with
the advent of nuclear families more and more of our grandparents are spending
their last years fighting loneliness among their other ailments. We need to
take collective responsibility to ensure that we are a support system to those
people who helped us stand on our feet. We need to make our policies and laws
such that they are a help and relief to the elderly and not a worry. We need to have a system where , if
they need to say go to the court to collect papers, an old lady who cannot
climb more than two steps, does not need
to climb a flight of stairs and that the
papers are brought to her .By the ‘we’ I mean everybody-the government, the judicial
system, the private companies, the security and most importantly US-the people
for whom they sacrificed a lot of their best years, for whom they spent
sleepless nights worrying about their
future, for whom they are willing to
spend their last years in isolation so that they are not a hindrance to our
dreams and our life…
We do owe a lot to them and I think the least we can do is
to take out a few moments out of our busy life for the people who made us what
we are today.
I actually grew up with my grandmother in a joint family hence I can totally connect with the feeling. The world has changed and now people are so busy that emotions and festivals have just lost their sheen.
ReplyDeleteSo true, Gaurab. Glad you got an opportunity to experience the warmth of a grand parents love in your formative years:)
DeleteIt's really a touching account and so true. I too grew up with my grandma so can actually feel the agony...
ReplyDeleteThanks , Maniparna:)
DeleteEvery child's voice... which is forgotten by most of them when they grow up... Only wish, let every grown up retain this child's emotions and concerns... Best wishes to your daughter :)
ReplyDeleteRegards,
Sindhu
Tantu
The Arts & Me
Thanks, Sindhu. Bless you:)
DeleteReminds me of my nani and her home. It is almost the same story, except that we have brought her with us and its the empty house that lays abandoned.
ReplyDeleteIt makes me so happy and proud of you all- at least in your case the correct thing has been done :)
ReplyDelete