Walking Tall Against The Rain

 

It was raining heavily. The whole atmosphere was grey.

As usual, I had come to my native place, Wai, in Diwali vacation. I was in 5^th standard. Wai, a slightly big village, a taluka place, is situated in a beautiful valley. A road from Wai leads to Mahabaleshwar, a famous hill station.

We have a farm here about 10 km near Wai, some odd 8 Hectares (around 18 to 20 Acres) of land. On one edge of this farm flows one offshoot of Krishna River.

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My grandfather, we all called him ‘Appa’, was a school teacher. He also looked after this farm in his spare time. He had an old cycle (which I used while in college). He went to the farm almost daily, sometimes stayed there, and was generally very happy in getting integrated with it. He was a self-reliant and strong man of wisdom. His posture was very straight. When he walked, he had that grace which we see in a Lion or a Tiger. His royal face had too many wrinkles, each line depicting the hardships which he had faced in his earlier life. His body was athletic; his hands and legs very strong with thick skin on palms of his hands and soles of his feet. He had a great stamina. He liked to cook his own food when he stayed on farm. He preferred to remove the puncture of the cycle tube by himself. He was never afraid of anything, even a snake – a common reptile in the farm. People fondly called him ‘Master’, which he was. They took advice from him.

My grandmother, Aaji, was known as Nagutai in that village since her birth was on Nagpanchami, a Marathi festival known for worshipping Nag or snake Cobra. She had a fascination to read books and was very knowledgeable with latest information. She was also a good poet and sung poems instantaneously. She was also a good organizer and had a club where the women used to learn singing. She was a practical and witty person. She also had a knack of discriminating between right and wrong. She always had an answer to a question, and an equally strong and opposite question for a question if she sensed the typically bend intention. Nobody crossed her. Her social awareness was also at a heightened state. She was very meticulous in keeping books of sold goods from our farm, like wheat, jwari, bajari and many such grains, cereals, turmeric, beans, groundnut, rice, and later on sugarcane. But she distributed some to needy women without any expectations and without a word to anyone. When my father brought his friend ‘Bapu’ (not his real name) from his school at home and told Aaji that Bapu will be with us till his education gets complete, she personally saw to it that Bapu is well fed. She considered Bapu as one of her sons. He completed his education. In later years, in Pune, Bapu used to come to our place quite often. He started a courier service business in Pune and it flourished well.

In those days, money was a scarce commodity and hence always a necessity - it was always short as a resource. One thing, though, was ample. Food! Our farm never let us short on that count. When my father came first in National Scholarship, Aaji took the bold decision to move from Ozarde to Wai so that my father shall have a good education. Her younger twin sons were also growing up. Later on my both uncles got admission to medical college, completed their education and became very famous in their respective field, one as a Head of Pathology Dept. in Medical College of Jamnagar, Ahmedabad and then in Baroda, while the other as a child specialist and started his clinics in Wai along with various social activities. But at that time, the situation was so bad that Appa was ready to hypothecate the farm for some loan amount offered by his friend. Aaji sensed the trap when she came to know about it. She got extremely angry and vehemently opposed the move. She sold all the accumulated gold to raise the money for education of her children. Her philosophy was simple. What is the use of this gold if we can’t use it at proper times? Within next twenty years Appa gradually purchased many gold ornaments for her, the sum total was quite bigger than what she had sold.

Our farm is handled by a family who are famous for their royalness. I like this family very much. Today’s men in politics who get everything as a privilege and who consider themselves as the rightful owner of that privilege by virtue of their caste, should really see this family. They will understand the meaning of royalness. The head of this family, Khushabarao, was a friend of my grandfather, and never took disadvantage of grabbing the land even when it was possible to him legally. He had his own land and he said,

“What answer should I give in Gods darbar? This land is not mine”.

The fourth generation of this family is coming up which is more acquainted with my son. But this royalness is not at all diluted after so many years. At that time, Ramchandra, the son of Khushabarao, who was of the same age as my father, was looking after our farm.

I always preferred to go to my native place in my long holidays. I liked to play Chess and had two partners staying opposite our house at my native place, Madan and Manoj. They too had similar liking and we used to play for hours together. I was in that age when nothing made me afraid. Fear gets instilled in our minds as we grow up. I liked roaming around. Everyone talked with me. Many times I didn’t know who they were, but they all knew that I am Appa’s or Nagutai’s grandson.

There was a staircase leading to a room above the kitchen. The staircase was very well hidden behind a closed door. This room was always my attraction. I used to cover my nose by a handkerchief and spend a lot of time in that dust filled darkened room. There were many objects of interest in that room. A harmonium, one table watch, many books, an old radio, many cough syrup cans, syringes, various empty but good quality plastic boxes of medicines, … and many more such objects. They fascinated me.

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This vacation of Diwali was different. Due to “aadhik maas” (an adjustment of time period in the calendar), Diwali was in November. It was also the last year of the famous three year draught (may be 1967 or 1968) Mr. Vyankatesh Madgulkar had written in one of his books describing this draught,

“People began to leave villages for survival.”

There was practically no rain for the last three years. Aaji’s grain stock had depleted considerably. But this year at least there was some rain to have something. Then came winter when the dew drops are sufficient for the crops. This year this winter situation was good since there was ample moisture in the air.

One day I had gone, as usual, on the ghats of the Krishna River when I realized that the atmosphere is changing rapidly. Till the time I came home, I was totally wet. I had observed the real lashing power of the rain for the first time.

After that for the next four days I was stuck up in the house. After second day, Appa became visibly restless. In that big house, he was wandering from the hall through the long passage and equally big open hall up to the main gate. From there he used to come in the kitchen and sit near the small puja (worship) place. Again after ten minutes he used to repeat the same routine. At one point of time he began to change his clothes. Aaji stopped him by saying,

“Don’t go just now. Let the rains stop.”

Appa replied,

“Don’t you understand what must be happening there in our farm?”

“What are you going to do even if you go there today?”

There was no answer. Aaji then made him tea. Both were silent for a long time.

Then Appa said,

“At least Ramchandra should have told me the status”.

“Where first will he look after, his own farm or ours? What is he going to do even if he goes to our farm?”

The next day afternoon Ramchandra came to our house. The heavy torrential rains had not stopped. Krishna River was flooded. The whole dark atmosphere along with the continuous sound of rain was creating a very depressing mood. It was admirable that Ramchandra had come to our house in such rain.

Over a cup of tea, Aaji asked many indirect questions and he gave indirect and short answers.

“How are legs of your mother?” – His mother’s knees gave trouble in rainy days.

“As usual.”

“Was there water flowing over the bridge?”

“I came from north-side bridge”.

“What are the chances?”

“Rains …”

Later, after tea, he indicated Appa that now he will go. Obviously he didn’t want to talk in front of Aaji. As soon as Appa started to go along with Ramchandra in our big open hall, Aaji, with firmness in her voice, told Ramchandra to speak everything in her presence. Dejectedly he sat and told,

“What is there to tell? What is going to happen in such rain coming at such odd times?”

After a few minutes he left. But those were the longest few minutes, because everyone was in his own thoughts.

As soon as he left, Aaji began her normal routine activities to make lunch. Suddenly she burst out. Her whole body was shaking when she was roasting bhakaris on the chullah. She was trying not to make any noise, and for that she pressed her sari in her mouth. It was too much for her to digest. This was the first season after three years where there were some hopes. While wiping her tears by her sari, she said,

“Why …?”

Appa allowed her to cry for some time. Then he said,

“Don’t worry, have patience. Everything will be okay tomorrow.”

What was to be okay tomorrow? Nothing! But such words have a very powerful soothing effect.

Rains stopped somewhere in midnight. New day brought sunshine. Appa began to prepare to go on the farm. I was also fed up sitting in the house. I asked Appa whether he will take me.

“Don’t come. I am going for work”

“Let him accompany you. You both go in the afternoon after lunch” – Aaji said.

Aaji’s word was final. Reluctantly Appa took me along with him. We went to bus stand and immediately got the bus. A road leads to our farm from the main road around two kilometers from Ozarde. The bus driver knew Appa and dropped us exactly at that location.

As soon as we left the main road, I found out that we can visualize something like a road leading to the farm. The first foot went knee deep. I had never seen such type of mud till then. Appa removed his chappals and I followed him by inserting my sandals in my two hands. At least if I fall down, my sandals will touch the ground first. But there was very remote chance to fall down. To remove the leg from the mud and again to put it in the mud in forward direction required some practice. Gradually I became habitual and then I didn’t worry at all about the mud.

Seeing the other people’s farms on both sides of the road, it was easy to guess the condition of our farm. It was exactly as I had guessed. Total devastation! The yields, just a month away, were destroyed. Ramchandra was there and he showed us the exact nature of destruction. Even if there is any yield, the black jwari was useless to everyone. Other crops had the same fate. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done but to wait for the next season.

We turned back after two hours and came to main road. Everywhere the branches of the trees were seen fallen on the main road. Instead of going towards Ozarde, we started towards Wai. Appa said that we will get a going bus in-between. We put our footwear on. I shall never forget that long journey. Nature’s cruelty gets highlighted only when we are the actual sufferers. Appa was holding my right hand. I felt it good. After many years I realized that he also needed somebody’s support and my little hand gave it to him.

A bullock-cart came from behind. The owner of the cart was Appa’s friend. He said,

“Master, why did you bring your grandson along with you? (Kashala aanlat lekarala hikade Master?)”

He gave us the much needed lift up to the junction (phata). During that journey I came across many new words which I didn’t know earlier. All the adjectives were addressed to the rain. He was much stressed and had got a good listener in Appa to relieve his stress. From the junction within next twenty minutes we reached home again by walking.

We were exhausted. It was late evening. Aaji never uttered a word. Appa too was not in a talking mode. She had made hot and sweet Shira ready with bananas, the way Appa liked. After we cleaned ourselves, we ate that Shira. It is such a beautiful dish that we felt better. Still Aaji was quite. My little mind sensed that quietness. Once Appa went in the open hall, in a low voice she asked me all the details very pointedly.

I felt sleepy and went to bed a bit early. Appa was rubbing my feet when I was entering in to the sleep. Aaji was telling Appa,

“Let us consider that it was not ours. All the things happen for the better.”

Yesterday Appa was trying to reason with Aaji with soothing words. Today Aaji was comforting Appa.

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Too many years passed since Aaji and Appa passed away. Now I am at that middle phase when we begin not only to see the boundaries, but also identify and accept them as boundaries. This long journey had too many events. Some accidents happen. Right decisions taken prove to be disastrous as time passes and a lot of years of the life are robbed to come out of the failures caused by these decisions. Loss of near and dears have to be faced. There is anxiety about job security in global slow down situations.

Sometimes we enter in to that gloomy mood when we suddenly feel that we are bound at all fronts by everyone, but particularly by fate. Evening begin to make us introvert. With increasing level of maturity, we actually become those frustrated creatures who can’t shape their lives and always try to seek security from the fear of unknown!

Not always, but sometimes, in some instances it becomes unbearable. I feel that I am losing all my strength to fight. My wife recognizes my delicate mood. Without words! She keeps me away from every one. Even my children give me the privacy which I need badly. During dinner my wife makes my favorite kheer. At night she takes me in her arms and pats me on the back, the way a breast fed baby is patted by the mother….…

I do not realize how my silent crying gets converted in to sleep …….. And in my dream I see Appa and Aaji advising me,

“Don’t worry, have patience. Everything will be okay tomorrow.”

“Consider that it was not yours. All the things happen for the better.”