The Twilight Years

Alamu Mami was sitting with her feet outstretched leaning against the wall. Saambhu Mama sat beside her on his easy chair. This was their normal routine. Their kitchen would close by 7.30 in the evening. Mami would make a couple of dosas and serve it hot with whatever sambar or rasam was left over from morning. Hot masala milk would be served in the traditional dabara-tumbler. Mama would relish each morsel of the dosa, with his patent remark, “besh besh” conveying his appreciation of its crispness. Within minutes, Mami would clean up the kitchen platform and come and sit beside Mama with the “chella petti” – the box containing betel leaves, chuna and supari. Both of them would recollect old stories while Mami would make the “paan” for him. Theirs was the last house in a chawl predominantly inhabited by closely knit Tamil families in a suburb of erstwhile Bombay.

When the male folk would go to work and the children were at school, the women would get together, learn some devotional songs or do some embroidery. Exchanging special dishes was something which took place every day. During summers, all the families would get together for Project Pickles or Pappads. If at all anyone fell sick, everyone would rally around making special porridge or try out herbal medicines, knowledge of which was handed down over generations.

Starting from Pongal in January, all the festivals were celebrated with great gusto. Each of them vied with one another to make the biggest “kolam”, but there was no competition or jealousy. The whole community would work together to clean up if heavy rains caused flooding in the low lying chawls or would take turns fetching water from the deep well as they did not have water connection in their rooms. Any occasional Tamil movie would find all of them huddled together in Mami’s room, which was larger than all the others and also because Saambhu Mama was the only one to purchase a television.

Needless to say, it would be potluck that night with all of them sitting on the common verandah and savoring varieties of mouth-watering foods. All the children grew up together as one family. The eldest among them would take charge of the smaller kids when they commuted to King’s Circle to attend school. This entailed travelling by the crowded local train, but they all enjoyed it. When it rained and trains were cancelled, there would be total chaos and confusion, but there was also a thrill to it! All the residents of the chawl bonded as one family and that feeling was truly heart-warming.

When all was well, one evening news flashed across the chawl. Alamu Mami had suddenly complained of chest pain and even before the doctor could be contacted, Mami had succumbed to a massive cardiac attack. Saambhu Mama was shocked and beyond consolation. The whole chawl mourned the loss and somebody or other was with him all the time. As the couple had no children, the residents of the chawl stood by Mama and got the religious ceremonies performed very well.

After his soulmate left him, Mama did not stir out of the house. He did not wish to sit on his easy chair in the verandah without the pleasing presence of Alamu Mami. He would sit inside, thumbing the pages of their wedding album or playing the audio cassettes where he had fondly recorded Mami’s bhajans. The very loving neighbours took turns to see that his food needs were taken care of, right from the early morning coffee, through breakfast, lunch, evening tea and snacks and dinner. Whenever they met him, he seemed inconsolable.

It was, therefore, a great shock to everyone when Mama announced his decision to marry a middle-aged woman the coming Sunday. Tongues started wagging – “Oh my God! Kaliyugam has truly started. It is not even a month since Mami passed away and this man is getting remarried! That too to a woman almost half hi age! You can never ever trust a man – see how he can’t live without a woman! Siva-Siva”... were some of the less-caustic comments that could be heard. With just two days to go for the wedding, everyone started consulting one another whether they should attend the function or boycott it.

Saambhu Mama was sensitive to the discomfort caused by his announcement and in order to spare his neighbours embarrassment, he decided to spend a couple of days at his sister’s place and return to his home only after the wedding. This arrangement suited most residents who were otherwise feeling awkward while delivering food at his home. However, they were still racking their brains to decide whether they should attend the wedding or not. Some of the smart ones, planned to be away for a week and get excused, but most of them were in two minds.

The wedding day arrived. The muhurtham was between 7.30 and 9.00 in the morning. The previous night though everybody in the chawl discussed about the wedding, nobody talked about attending it. It was, therefore, a great surprise when almost the entire colony met each other with sheepish grins when they reached the venue at different times and through different routes.

They were all well received and as they huddled together, they had lots of material to gossip in hushed voices. Saambhu Mama’s sister had proposed the alliance, and so she was their first target. They then started prying the bride’s background and were all ears when the small group representing the bride’s side talked to each other.

Once the wedding ceremony was over, Saambhu Mama joined them as they waited for lunch to be served. There were about 60-70 people in all, out of which 35 were from the chawl itself! Saambhu thanked each one of them for having turned up for his wedding. He then talked to each family, for the very first time after Mami’s demise. “Ranga how is your daughter in Florida?”, he asked his neighbour who was seated next to him. “Kriti is very fine but is so busy with her project that she will not be able to come home for another two years!” he said dejectedly. Mama then turned to his wife, Kamalini and asked her when they planned to get Kriti married. “You know, Mama. These days our children know much better than us. She said that she would like to live life on her own terms and that we need not worry about it”, she said proudly. Mama took out his mobile, opened his mail and held it out to Ranga and Kamalini. “See, this was sent to me by one of my students in Florida. He knows Kriti from the days he came to me for tuitions. In fact, he even had a crush on her, but it was I who pointed out to him that she was too young for him and asked him to change his views and let her study peacefully. He too is in Florida and by chance, had seen her entering a bar and was in a state of shock when he followed her. Kriti seemed to frequent the bar as everyone seemed to know her there. He has clicked a picture of her and sent it to me feeling very sad that Kriti was in bad company. The boy who had his hands all over her did not at all seem suited for her. As for Kriti, she can be seen happily sipping her drink alongside him.” Kriti’s parents too did not expect to be confronted like this and could not believe their eyes, but unfortunately, the picture told it all. The other chawl mates too were rudely taken by surprise. “We never expected our Kriti to be like this”, was what each of them felt. 

Next Mama came to Rajashekhar. “How is your son’s business going on? Has his divorce come through?”, he asked casually. “What? What divorce? I can’t understand,” Rajashekhar replied. “Oh, so you do not know about it. His wife, Punita had applied for divorce last year itself citing that he was having an affair with his office colleague. When I met her uncle at a wedding some time back, he told me everything”, Mama said. Rajashekhar, in fact knew nothing of it as his son had not revealed anything. He did not know how to react.

Mama then turned to Kothandam. “I hope your son has found his match at least now. He has had live-in relationships with more than four girls. Will he marry the fifth one?” he posed a question. The atmosphere by now was getting tense every moment. All the parents whose sons or daughters were abroad, started worrying. Mama, sitting so many miles away knew what was happening to their children even when they themselves were not aware of it!

Mama quietly came to Srilatha and asked her if she had managed to send her mother-in-law to an Old Age Home. For the benefit of those who did not know anything, he described at length how Srilatha had taken a dislike for her mother-in-law from the day she entered their home. She won over her husband’s heart in a very subtle way and started to slowly convince him that his mother would be more comfortable in a Retirement Community with like-minded people around her.

When more and more stories were being exposed, the situation was getting discomforting. Mama himself realized it and said in his own unique style: “See, all of you must have wondered what kind of a pervert this old man is, to marry a woman half his age, when hardly a month has passed after his wife died. For your information, I have analysed this several times and weighed its pros and cons before coming to this decision. I love our chawl and all of you and have always been proud of the fact that we have been living as one extended family and have stood by each other both in good and bad times. We have never differentiated between families and shared the same kind of feelings and emotions with everyone. After Alamu’s death, I was shocked and depressed, and I am obliged to each one of you to have supported me throughout. I also realised that sometimes you would go out of your way just to see that food reached me regularly and in time. Alamu had seen to each and every comfort of mine and made me lazy and incapable of looking after myself. Soon, I will be entering my ninetieth year, but if I am asked to make myself a cup of tea or coffee, I would not be able to do so. After Alamu’s passing away, for a few days, I had my relatives who came to pay their last respects to her, but I feel sad to say that they also were prying into her belongings whether they were her jewellery or rich silk saris. Each of them wished to take with them, whatever they could lay their hands on.

It was then that a thought came to my mind. My sister had always talked to me about a school friend of hers who had been widowed very young and who had nowhere to go. I thought that by marrying her, I would be giving her security for life. Being able-bodied, she too could take good care of me. She would have a purpose to live for and Alamu had left behind numerous silk sarees and jewels, which she could wear. Through my sister I approached her and made it very clear that ours would be purely a platonic relationship and if all went well it would be a win-win situation for both of us, especially so for me in my twilight years. She was overwhelmed and felt she could not thank me enough for choosing her to live with me. It was she who then asked me how I would face society and what answer I could give anyone who might suspect my intentions. I told her that these should be personal issues where no one can question another. Those who are the fabric of this ‘society’ have so many problems on their own – told or untold, that they would not or rather should not delve into our privacy. That is how I am entering into the second innings of my life. Alamu still lives with me in my memories and will continue to do so till I breathe my last”. Everyone was stunned by his speech and could not say a word.

Ammini won the hearts of all those in the chawl and endeared herself to one and all. She had taken the place of Alamu Mami and was ever ready to help anyone at any time. On Mama’s milestone birthday, ten years later, the whole colony was lit up to celebrate it. Flex banners and posters congratulating Mama on his completing a century fluttered at every nook and corner. All neighbours got together and planned a great feast and spent a wonderful time together.

A few months later, when Ammini called out to the neighbours one morning, everyone knew that the end had come. All of them left their work and studies to give their beloved Mama a fond farewell and salute him for his noble intentions of having given a new life to an unfortunate woman.