Good Old Days

It was around four on a Sunday evening. Shruti was nagging her mother to take her out since she was feeling bored at home. Keertana tried to divert her daughter’s attention by playing a video on her laptop and placing it in front of Shruti. Shruti laid on her stomach, with her chin cupped in her hands and started watching with wide eyes. “Mummy, look! The mother bird is feeding the small birds. See how small birds are opening their mouths.”
“You must say ‘baby birds’,
not small birds,” said Keertana, laughing.
“Mummy, what are these?
They are eating just like we eat, see,” asked Shruti, pointing towards squirrels.

“Oh! These are squirrels,” answered Keertana.“Mummy see this parrot is eating the guava with its red beak.” Another scene! Another excited shriek! Keertana recalled her childhood days when in the morning she would pick up the fruits eaten and discarded by the parrots, wipe them with her frock and happily bite into them. So many memories! ‘Will this generation ever get to watch these kind of things in the real world?’ she thought.
“Did you have such a beautiful garden in your house?” asked Shruti, trying to touch the flowers she saw on the screen of the laptop.
“The garden in the front of my grandmother’s house was full of plants and flowers. The backyard housed trees like mango, jackfruit, chikoo and guava. We as kids would spend all our holidays climbing and playing in the midst of the trees,” said Keertana, fondly recalling her childhood. Shruti looked at her mother and asked, “Why is nobody coming to my grandmother’s house for holidays?”
“Nobody is here to come for the holidays. My sister and brother are in America. Since they stay so far they cannot come every year during their holidays. My grandmother had five children. All our uncles and aunts, their children used to come home during their holidays.”
“You were so lucky. I don’t have anyone to play with,” Shruti sounded envious.
—
Keertana felt that she had done a wonderful thing by taking Shruti with her during her last visit to her grandmother’s home. It was then that she had videographed the entire home, garden, and the surroundings. She was not sure if the village would retain its pastoral character by the time her daughter grew up.
“You seem to have gone crazy. You have spent the entire day photographing trees, birds, cats, cows, calves and buffaloes,” remarked Keertana’s grandmother. “Shruti is sleeping grandma. Now is the only free time that I have to photograph all these things so that when she grows up I can show her our village, ancestral home, gardens and orchids.”
Shruti got up from her sleep with a smile on her face. Keertana’s grandmother took her in her arms and kissed her.
Keertana had intended to stay for two days, but ended up staying for five days. She took pictures of all her relatives who visited them during those five days.
That was Keertana’s last visitto her grandmother’s village. Grandfather passed away peacefully within a year and half after her last visit. Grandma followed him shortly. Maternal uncles came from the US, sold the house and land, distributed the money amongst themselves and went back. Only memories and photographs were all that were available.
—

Shruti would watch the CD whenever she was free. She was eager to know more about her great grandmother’s home.
“Mummy, why did we come to India when uncle and aunt are all in America?”
“Our situation is different. I could not take care of you by myself. We could not find domestic help there. I got a good job here. So we came back.”
“But daddy was with us. You left daddy and came here. Why didn’t daddy come with us?” Shruti repeated a question that she had asked a couple of times in the past.
“He did not want to leave his job. That is why he did not come with us.”
It had been two years since Keertana had come back to India. Shruti had learnt a lot of things in the past two years. One day she came from school and said, “All my friends’ have mummies and daddies and they all live together. I am only one without a daddy. Ask daddy to come and stay with us.” “He will not come. And I have I have told you this many times,” said Keertana, getting irritated with her sulking daughter. “You are a kid. You do not understand.”
“I know everything. You are speaking lies. You and daddy have got divorced. Isn’t it?”
This generation is very smart. Since they are exposed to a lot of things at very ‘early age’ they learn things very quickly. It is better to explain everything to them, thought Keertana. “You are a big girl now. You said that you know everything. Yes, your daddy and I are divorced. That is why he does not stay with us or visit us.”
Keertana had compromised with her self-respect and lived with her husband for six years, all along hoping that he would change. She conceived a year after settling down. Childbirth, taking care of the baby, household chores and lack of cooperation from husband made life impossible. She had to leave her child in the crèche, go to work and pick her up after office. It was never-ending work. To make matters worse her husband was always irritated and complaining. She became sick and tired of her life. Finally, she had run out of patience and took her four-year-old daughter and came back to India.
She succeeded in keeping herself going because of her parents’ support. Though she was a single parent, she had been leading a fairly peaceful life for the past two years. But now Shruti was growing up and observing children around her and had started asking questions, which Keertana was unable to answer convincingly.
It was the day of Raksha bandhan. Shruti was watching TV. Almost all channels were playing programmes where sisters were tying rakhis on the wrists of their brother. “I want a brother. Bring me a brother. I will tie rakhi on his wrist. I don’t have anybody to play with. You had your brothers to play with when you were a kid. Don’t I need a brother?” Shruti frankly asked her mother.

“How can I get you a brother?
A brother is not a toy to be bought,” answered Keertana, laughing at her daughter’s desire.
But Shruti started to get moody. She stopped playing with her toys. She would go to school, come back, complete her homework and go back to watching TV. If she got bored with TV, then she would repeatedly watch the CD that her mother had shown her. She had stopped telling her mother about the happenings in her school or discussing whatever she saw on the TV. One day Keertana got very annoyed and asked harshly, “Why are you behaving like this?” “How should I be? I don’t have anyone to play with. I don’t have anyone to talk to. You go to office in the morning and come back at night. By then I become sleepy. I cannot play all the games by myself,” burst out Shruti.
Shruti was right. The children in their residential complex were either very young, or college goers.
“So what am I supposed to do? Everyone is busy these days. Each one of us has to learn to keep engaged,” said Keertana, while asking herself if she had committed any mistake in showing her the CD.
“Shruti, do you want a brother or sister to play with?” Keertana asked one day, after she back from work. Shruti who was still sulking, suddenly brightened up and excitedly placed her palm on her mother’s stomach and asked, “Is a baby coming to our house?” Keertana laughed and reiterated, “Tell me, do you want sister or brother?”
“I don’t want a sister. I want
a brother so that I can tie rakhi on his wrist. After watching Shruti’s happiness, Keertana felt that she had done the right thing by deciding to adopt.
—
Six months later… on a Sunday morning, Keertana brought home a three-year old boy. “He will call you ‘didi’ right. He will start playing with you. Come here, come,” Keertana took the boy’s hand and placed it in Shruti’s hand. The child was looking with wide eyes at the new faces and surroundings.
“Mummy, he is so cute. But he is so thin. Look at his hair! They are so long!” said Shruti, barely able to keep her happiness under control.
“He is like baby Krishna. Shall we name him ‘Vamsi’?” asked Shruti. “That’s nice name. We shall name him ‘Vamsi.’ Come and give him
a hug and talk to him.” Shruti took him into her arms and, “Vamsi, call me ‘didi’.” She became engrossed with the child. Keertana heaved a sigh of relief on watching the happiness on Shruti’s face.
“I am sorry Shruti. Forgive me for not being able to give you trees, plants, orchids, fields, cows and calves, birds, squirrels, birds eaten fruits… cousins to play with. This is all I can give you. And please forgive me for not giving you the kind of childhood I was blessed with.”

(Apartha Madhuram- Navya)