Passing On....

(Inspired by a wonderful post by my friend Zephyr Nag)

First quarter of the last century...

She had lost her mother at a very young age. Her father, never remarried, in those days of  alarming step-behaviours,  and his being both father and mother to her was actually an education for her.  Her father , had risen to his position, from very humble beginings by virtue of pure hard work and struggle, and helping out folks who needed resources for education was something he religiously did, and she imbibed an attitude that no formal education could have given her.

Attitudes can never be taught. They have to observed, imbibed and learned. And practised. 

Her own children grew up, with a conservative bringing up, in the face of different lifestyles they observed in their often cosmopolitan classmates. There was entire set of unrelated folks who owed their college education to her and her husband, who assisted them with fees and books, and often, even some counseling. And there was never a pervading spirit of highlighting what-chariity-you-did, have-vs-have-nots-publicity etc ,  in all this giving and taking. This was how life was lived. Period. 

By and by her children settled down in their own lives. And she travelled around the world, being the indulgent grandparent who attended the important milestones in the lives of the grandkids.  Be it someone's graduation,  be it someone's important sports meet , or even someone's annual day or felicitation somewhere. Grandpa didnt travel so much, and so she had to be present.

On  a winter's day in November 2000, at 83, she returned, tired  and jet lagged from attending the eldest grandson's graduation in the US. Her own daughter in India had just returned from attending a state sports meet with her own daughter, and travelled back with grandpa to Mumbai to receive her.  It was Divali, an they would all stay together for a while at the daughter's.    

This granddaughter was an adopted child, who then didnt know about her own adoption. But the daughter's family had made it a point everyyear, to visit the orphanage near their house , during Bhaidooj every Divali, when they took sweets for the kids there  and played with them.

That Bhaidooj, she was still coming out from her jetlag and preferred to rest at home.  Grandpa had just returned from his morning walk, and was reading the papers and getting orgainzed when the family set out for the morning visit.

"So are you guys off to visit the temple ? "  he asked , gesturing at his daughter, son-in-law, grandson and granddaughter .

Before they could answer, she looked up from some vegetables she was sorting and cutting.

 Like so many of her ilk, she could never sit idle; the hands were always busy, helping or giving.

"Yes. Something almost like that . Like a temple. "  she said, looking into the distance, as they waved goodbye to the family off on their annual morning trip to the orphanage.


Her daughter never forgot those words.

They were not to know that, that  was her last day with them. She collapsed that evening , was hospitalized and passed away 2 days later.

One of the biggest legacies she left,  was the understanding, that religion , was not how you did rituals, and got intimidated by Gods and  rules.

It was really, how you learned to give , from what little you had.  It was about respect and empathy for those life stories which were not as happy and secure as yours. It was about thinking something deeper than appearances, looks, and a spik-and-span life.  And it was never something you shouted from the rooftops...

 A learning and a set of values , imbibed, hopefully, by her descendants, over all the years.....

Mothers and mothers

As a child, there was a certain no-nonsense element to her growing-up years. In what was then called the outskirts of Pune City, in a very traditional , conservative locality....

At a time which really set the standards in what she hankered for, what she got and what she learned....

She remembers, in 4th grade, being totally impressed with buckram frocks (that kept things permanently flared), and what were called rock-and-roll shoes. While the former was acceded to by the elders in the form of a buckram slip you wore inside a skirt, there were fine skirmishes on the subject of the shoes.  Naughty Boy black shoes in school, keds for games,  sandals/chappals otherwise, and her lifestyle really didn't demand the rock-and-roll shoes, heels and stuff. She got them, when she was much older, in high school, but always looked on in awe seeing her 5th grade friends wearing them on school birthdays .

Pune Camp was a different place in those days, with a full Anglo-Indian/Parsi/military ethos, folks in suits and frocks, high heels clicking, air kissing and stuff, Jim Reeves singing in the background, and people talking of "jam sessions",  and her biggest mortification was when she once ended up going there with her mother, wearing a pale green and black zari  bordered parkar polka and ran into one of her classmates called Darius Cooper walking with his Mom. While she , dying of embarrassment, tried to hide and look elsewhere, Darius's mother simply loved the parkar polka, and had a discussion about it with her Mom.  A small learning about how you may be simply making a noise about something unimportant to other folks, so chill!

For a while, she started behaving like the fashionable folks in her class. There were these strange things that were followed, like not fully eating or drinking whatever was on your plate/glass. And so we used to think we were being extra modern when we left a centimetre  of colas and fruit juices to waste in the glass, and remnants of food on our plates, with a fork placed just so. Polishing up your plate was infra-dig and not done. You also didn't turn the glass upside down, swallow the drink till the last molecule, and then make air-swallowing noises.

This worked, till her mother noticed it one day, and declared in no uncertain terms, that nothing, but nothing on the plate was to be wasted, and same held for whatever you drank. At home, you dare not turn up noses at food, you ate whatever was served initially on your plate, and seconds were your choice. But the end result had to be a clean plate . (Sometimes , we even looked at our image reflected in it :-)....)

In her childhood, the recommended  movies were either mythologicals, or something like "Tenzing Conquers Everest"; the Indian News Review before a movie was never to be missed in those non-TV days; you saw umpteen shots of Nehru cutting a ribbon to inaugurate something, shots of molten steel flowing in some factory,  a bunch of worthies walking in a shop floor both hands clasped behind , as was the approved officially favored style, and for a long time she would think that big hockey games (that were shown there) were played with lilting fast background music.

 In all this strict lifestyle, the parents however, encouraged hobbies in elocution, writing, music and the arts and sports.  Sometimes in the face of disapproving smirks from folks .

By and by, she slogged a lot and she sometimes succeeded. But she learnt, as they say, to treat ecstatic wins and depressing losses with the same equanimity. She never went overboard, and hissing a loud "yes" and pumping of her  hands did not happen. She simply got on with what she had to do.  There was, really,  no lottery mentality in her life.

She studied and worked as an adult and  had the same philosophy. Sometimes she succeeded and sometimes she didn't, despite the slog. She also learned , that there were different rules for different people at work. But so firmly was the work ethos dinned into her head, that it was clear that she worked to her own ethical and work standards, within the rules.

Funny situations like  someone who did not do any work, being favored, occurred. She explained it to herself, saying, she worked at stuff that was evaluated and subject to acceptance levels. Those who didn't do any work, had nothing to be evaluated, and hence by default, people simply overlooked that part of the evaluation form !  Whether it was work, sports, or even catching a bus , a decent dedicated slog was always her first difficult step, and she would then reach some place from where she could see the top in the distance.

And so, today,  she is surprised , that in her old age, when there is nothing of work left to evaluate, and no new opinions to be formed, she is suddenly tasting , an enjoyable  success of sorts.  A childhood hobby of writing was brought out of storage and dusted clean. The technology is different, there is no one to draw a red line through words, and glare at her. She blogs and writes poems. Sometimes she also thinks she is an artist.  And she doesn't care who laughs and /or passes snide comments.  The younger working years and her childhood,  have toughened her.

Strangely, there is now, what can be called, a lottery element in her life. Though nothing  ever, like scratching cards in malls, all expenses paid holiday trips,  winning 15 gms gold or maybe even a car......:-)

 She tends to win prizes for what she writes. She blogs and she has many virtual friends.

It started with writing a  tribute post on a retired cricketer and winning his coffee-table book as a prize.

Then a series of writing  competitions based on specific subjects  related to Mothers, Fathers, Friends , Country etc etc , where she won gift vouchers and painstakingly made, one at a time,  a set of 6 personalized coffee mugs depicting a recent family trip.

Then there were some Facebook competitions where you captioned pictures and they had daily prizes in the form of hefty gift vouchers.  She won one !

A travel portal had a Haiko tweeting competition, and her practice at writing instant poetry helped. She won three times.They sent her a camera bag, a 16GB SDS  data card, and an electric kettle !

The same portal then had a poem constructing competition, where , given some previous line, you completed poem lines, one a day, and they selected daily winners.  She won once and was the proud owner of a journal and a Schaeffers  pen.

In between A Women's Web portal held a few competitions. She won twice, and was presented with gift vouchers of amazing amounts and mugs to commemorate that!

Recently, she was one of the 5 main winners of a sunglasses company blog post competition organised by the same folks who gave her her first win, the Cricket book.    A pair of amazing Rayban Aviators came in the mail.

And very recently, she participated in a Family Memories Blog Competition,  and was lucky again to be declared the winner, the prize being a Flipkart Voucher of , what she actually considers, an obscene amount.

It isn't a surprise that every time something has to be spent online to use an earned voucher, the daughter desperately needs something, and has been looking for it.

Naturally, the 16 GB SDS card doesn't work on her old ancient camera, but nicely works on her daughter's new  DSLR. The camera bag holds the daughter's old camera, batteries, and stuff from her pre DSLR days. The daughter  must use the Schaeffers pen for an official workshop she is attending as part of her job, and various kinds of Green tea have been imbibed in the assorted personalized mugs.  Then, of course,  her daughter's 346 friends on Facebook have recently found out that she always wanted to get Rayban Aviator sunglasses, and guess what, here they are !  

Like she says,  there  now appears to be a lottery element in  her life.  And looks like, also, in her daughter's life.....

And so she looks back at her life, and her childhood with great nostalgia,  and thinks about those gone before and now no more, who encouraged her in her hobbies in her younger days and also taught her to ensure that her feet were always touching the Terra Firma, particularly when the mind tended to soar.......

She also thinks they are watching, and what's more, they think that grandchildren can do wrong......

 She looks up, and thanks them .

She should have actually done that long ago.

 But Mothers Day is happening, and it seems to be a good idea to do that now !    

Thoughts while standing on the threshhold......

There have been some recent posts on the "elderly" and their care. Here and here.

What is as clear as daylight , is the fact that we are today, in India, sandwiched between a generation where elders were always resident with the family, and a generation which has necessarily become more mobile, ambitious, and often given to "valuing" tangibles, at the cost of intangibles.

3 stories . Then reach your own conclusions.

X , was leading a comfortable life , as the wife of Y, who had a very secure respectable job. She was well educated , but thought nothing of acquiring jobs by hanging on to and basking in the shadow of the husband; for such folks, their work doesn't matter , their entire "prestige" and "standing" depends on that of the husband. She ensured she was always treated as her husbands wife and not as "a employee".

At one point , her widowed ma-in-law came to live with them clearly because of some medical situation , and was admitted to a hospital. A special nurse attendant was appointed so madam didn't have to feed, and help her ma-in-law in the hospital. Turns out that X told this nurse, that when the hospital lunch arrived, she was to give the patient only half , and take half for herself ; "why does the old lady need so much" were her words. X would make that mandatory daily trip, smile at he visitors and go home, and folks at work would look on in sympathy as they thought she was at the hospital.

By and by the old lady came home, whereupon she was packed off to an old age home, several miles away. Her granddaughter got married, there were other family celebrations, and she was never brought home. When she passed away, her body was brought home with a great show of sorrow, folks visited, attended the rituals, and it all ended with a great lunch served on the 13th day, in a special hall, attended by folks , some of whom were terribly impressed and some who saw through it all. People always wondered what the husband thought of his own mother being sent away like this. Today, these folks are considered one of the smarter folks who have their lives organized just so, and moving up in the world , themselves now as senior citizens.

P was the only caretaker of her very independent minded parents. She had a slightly specialized job in a big organization, thanks to her earlier work experience in industry, the pay wasn't out of this world, but she enjoyed her job which had other benefits. P's parents lived in another town, and as happens, her elderly father was adamant about living there and not moving in with her.

She had some qualms about possible friction happening in her own house , and when the time came, she managed somehow with immense difficulty till she qualified for early retirement benefits, and for several years alternated between her own house and her father's. Of course , there were full time nurses, and attendants, but they needed supervision, and she was lucky she found good staff. She paid through her nose for those, and was grateful that she had her own resources.

Yes, she lost out on lot of her own family life, a few occasions , and her presence could have possibly been beneficial for a teen aged daughter who sometimes had to manage and decide things on the phone, and by herself. But she travelled, and was there for all the Big days in the family. What made it more easy, was clearly the fact that the husband realized this was necessary, and he co-operated by bringing the family down during festival days and stuff. By and by, several years later, P's father passed away, with P sitting by his side on the fateful night.

Yes, P is not considered a success (in monetary and control terms) , in her field of work, although her capability is known, she was told she was stupid for leaving her job. But she is really unconcerned with all this, and now lives with a certain peace of mind, knowing that she was there for her father, and that her own family has learnt some valuable lessons about old age , from it all.

M never worked outside her house. She was one of two sisters. Her husband had a decent comfortable job, her children did well in school, her situation in life allowed her to enjoy the various regional cultural events that took place and she was happy. Her parents are today in their middle nineties.

Sometime in their early nineties, it looked like they wouldn't be able to stay by themselves in a neighboring town, where she had grown up. And so , she convinced them to move to her house. It was difficult at first, and there was a lot of travelling up and down to leave them back at their own house when they demanded and bringing them back when some health problem demanded it. She first arranged for them to be looked at by her own doctor, a lady , who was able to build confidence in the old folks, treating them like her own parents.

In the last few years, falls and dementia at various levels in both the older folks, have necessitated the hiring of day and night nurse attendants. M continues to go through her life, getting children married, entertaining relatives, organizing for grand children's arrivals, in addition to her own social activities. Her friends know her parents live with her, and are very friendly with them when they visit her house. The parents have attended family functions in wheelchairs, sometimes walking with great assistance; due to the onset of dementia, they sometimes do not recognize the people involved, but at the end of the day, they know that something is being celebrated, that they are wanted, and they enjoy the occasion , the best they can.

The children and children-in-law of the house know when to chip in with physical help , and are always cheerfully on call. M's husband, is grateful that he is in a position to help here as he is entitled to a large house, and earns comfortably; but mostly he helps by not making what could be snide and hurtful comments .

Somewhere at the end of the three stories, what is clear, is, that how X, P and M were brought up, plays a big part in all this.

Both P and M are not overly impressed by glamour or money, though they enjoy providing their children with the sort of things young people enjoy today, within fair limits. They have an ability to decide what is a need and what is a luxury, and come to a conclusion on what they must do. Very clearly, their husbands have , throughout their lives, observed and judged their wives and learned how they think, and it looks like they appreciate it.

In X's case, the husband is a total loss (and gutless, according to me ), but probably very successful in commercial terms, something X sets great store by. Both P and M, had older parents-in-law, who they took care off in their last days. Maybe their husbands appreciate that. The husbands may not be saints and paragons, but they see that a parent is a parent, and needs the same care.

At the end of the day, one more younger generation learns what to do and what not to do, by observing folks in the family.

Yes, home care costs money, so does institutional care.

What matters is whether you look upon it as a debit to your fortune, or a credit to someone who taught you what life is.

Whether you look upon folks as golden assets, or medical liabilities.

In the end , it is all about balancing. Your life. In your own way.