A World Within (13 page)

‘I know it, it is the law.’

‘How can you say this?’

‘I know, I have checked all papers.’

‘By when will we have to build it?’

‘By March next year.’

‘How much time will it take?’

‘It will be completed before August this year.’

‘Whom have you spoken to?

‘Amit Kashyap, the contractor. He will complete it by August.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘But there is so much work. Where are the maps?’

‘Maps are being made.’

‘They have not yet been made?’

‘They are being made and will be ready in couple of days.’

‘Have you shown the place and the site to the contractor?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘Are you aware that there are only four iron rods on one side of the building, and that only one more floor can come up there? While on the second portion, where there are six iron rods, many storeys can be built?’

‘Yes, I know and I have shown this to the contractor.’

‘Then, where will he build it?’

‘On the part where there are six rods.’

‘Has the map been made?’

‘Yes, it is being finalized, Vikram is in constant touch with the architect.’

‘Does Vikram know about it?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘What is the time limit?’

‘One year.’

‘Will it be over in one year?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘But there’s so much of work, it won’t be done.’

‘It will be done, Daddy, everything is ready.’

‘Who will build this, the contractor?’

‘Kashyap, Daddy, Amit Kashyap.’

‘You have spoken to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘You did not tell me.’

‘I told you, Vikram also knows this, we will do this, you don’t have to worry.’

‘What will be the cost of construction?’

‘The contractor will tell us.’

‘How much money is there?’

‘Thirty lakhs.’

‘But if we build all this area with thirty lakhs we will have to pay house tax to the committee.’

‘Yes.’

‘How much will that be?’

‘It won’t be much.’

‘What will be the exact amount?’

‘It will be on floor area so we will know about it later.’

‘But you must assess it as the tax will have to be paid to the municipal committee.’

‘Yes, Daddy, that is what we are doing.’

‘Do you know the contractor?’

‘Yes, you also know him, he is Amit Kashyap.’

‘Oh!’

‘What will we do?’

‘We will construct a house and all is settled.’

‘Have the maps been passed by the committee?’

‘Not yet, but soon these will be passed.’

‘No maps passed yet, how will we do it?’

‘We will do it there is enough time and you need not worry.’

‘I am worried.’

‘Please do not get worried. We will do everything and there will be no problem.’

‘I am tensed, I am losing my mind, and I can’t do anything about it. You will have to take charge.’

‘Yes, both Vikram and I will do it, you don’t have to worry.’

‘Vikram has no experience of such sorts, you have to guide him.’

‘Yes, I will do that.’

‘Can I make a request to you?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘Now you take charge, do not ask me anything, I can do nothing.’

‘Okay, Daddy.’

‘Beta, I will sign the cheques when you tell me to. I will also tell the contractor to talk to you for any further requirement. You will have to supervise everything. There is nothing that I can do myself now.’

‘But you will have to come from Shimla daily. Come in the evening and leave in the morning.’

‘Okay, Daddy.’

‘Will you do this?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘So I should worry no more?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘Should I rest in peace and there is no tension. Am I relieved?’

‘Yes, Daddy, you need not worry anymore, everything is fine.’

‘Okay, thank you, beta, I was very worried, now we have only your support. You have to do it.’

‘I will do it.’

‘How much tax do we have to pay?’

‘Four lakhs if we do not do anything but we are building a house so there will be no tax.’

‘Why is this tax?’

And then it goes on … again and again.

It surprises me that on some things, may be very less, he has so much of clarity – tax, building norms, maps, iron rods. How does the mind really work? It stores, remembers some things and scrapes out the rest.

33

First time when I felt that I needed to share my father’s condition with someone outside the family, I thought of talking to Sapna. She has lot of empathy and she is caring and will understand me. I was surprised that I chose Sapna out of all my college friends. I was not in touch with her for years. After she married she settled in Dharampur and I went off to Chamba and other interior places in Himachal with my husband. Through friends I kept on getting news about her, how she had not changed, she was still the chirpy and happy-go-lucky Sapna. I always wanted to meet her but somehow it did not materialize.

So, when Sapna came to my mind I was surprised at myself, but I was sure that time lag would not matter between us. It was not important that we were talking after a gap of years. Friends pick up strings very fast. So I called her up. And there she was as jolly as ever. She shouted, ‘Hi, is this really you, so great to hear from you. You know what, I just dreamt about you a couple of days back. This is so wonderful!’

I was in tears, true friends are a treasure and I cursed myself for not being in touch with her; after the initial blabber she asked me about Dadoo. I explained what was happening to him and realized after a few moments that there was silence at the other end. I could then hear muted weeping and I was perplexed.

‘Sappu, what are you doing, it is me who is supposed to be crying. But look at you, you are the one weeping and wailing. Are you crazy? It is me who needs moral support.’

‘You don’t know, Rewa, what I have gone through for the last ten years. Rahul’s mother was a patient of Alzheimer’s. And I understand what you people are going through.’

I was stunned, then Sapna told me about her mother-in-law, who went from bad to worse, and finally they had to keep her locked inside the room fearing that she would run away or she would hit herself with some sharp object. ‘Don’t be emotional, you have a long way to go, so get ready. This will be a long battle. So be practical,’ she added. I felt my heart sinking with these words. Now I wanted to meet her face to face. To listen to her story and to know how she handled it. I realized that it was so strange that behind her bubbly self there was such sadness. How tough it must have been for her.

So the next day I landed at her door and rang the bell, Sapna opened the door, looked at me and started crying. She cried and cried as I hugged her settling her on the sofa. Then I called Rahul from the shop above and he came and gave a glass of water to her.

‘Rahul, what has happened to her?’ I asked bewildered.

‘This happens to her every four months or so, she has never been able to forget my mother.’ Then both of them explained how they had to take care of aunty. In the end a time came when they had to tie her up with the bed so that she was safe. ‘We felt guilty but we had no option, otherwise we could not sleep for days and weeks and that was the only way to do so,’ said Rahul matter of factly.

‘She did not allow us to be out of her sight and the only time that we could sleep was when she slept, which was very less. So we had to tie her up at night. If we did not do that she would go to the kitchen and take a knife and we would fear she may hurt herself, or she would suddenly start sweeping the floor, she would not sleep a wink saying that there was lot of work to do and she had to clean the house.’

Rahul continued, ‘Some day she would say, “Bring my children to me, they are small and they will get lost. Bring them to me, I have to cook food for them.’

As I consoled her I hoped that this would not happen to me. My Dadoo will not be like that, I will never have to tie him up.

We talked a little longer and then I came back home. I was sick with worry.

34

17 February 2011

Today is their fifty-first wedding anniversary. I called him up in the morning, he was in a bright and chirpy mood, when I greeted him on his anniversary he was surprised. ‘I don’t know,’ he murmured.

‘Yes, Dadoo, but I know,’ I said.

‘If it is my wedding anniversary then you should be here,’ he said cheekily. ‘What use is this day if my children are not with me?’ he added laughingly. I didn’t know what to say. In a way he was right, we should be there but then …

When Dadoo laughs there can be no joy bigger than watching him. I love my Dadoo’s laughter because there is more to this. It is not just a simple, casual laugh. It is a deep throaty laugh, full of the bounty of life. Now with time it is disappearing. It is very rarely that he laughs like this. I wonder sometimes in my sad moments if he will also forget to laugh, like he is forgetting everything else.

35

28 February 2011

Just two days back I had spoken to Sapna again. She had to say some very blunt things.

Many times you know what is right, you know what will be will be, you know that you have to live in the present but somehow or the other you are not able to digest these golden rules of life. The situations, the circumstances become more important. On rare occasions when you read some thing or someone tells you a thing or two you understand it clearly.

‘This is a disease which will never be cured. You have to live with it and accept that it is going to deteriorate day by day. Second, leave him in peace. I mean don’t force him to do things like eat food, wear this, don’t do that. Don’t try to force logic on him because his brain cannot accept your logic. Third thing is don’t allow him to go into the bathroom alone or lock the door from inside because he may forget how to open it,’ said Sapna.

I was getting panic stricken and wanted her to stop but she went on.

‘Four, don’t keep any sharp-edged things like knife or scissors because when these patients get angry they become suicidal. Five, let him keep on doing what he wants to do. If he is talking don’t stop him and never ever mention in front of him that he is unwell. Always keep a watch on him but do not be too obvious about it. Six, in the night lock the doors of the house and keep the key away from him to make sure that he does not just walk out. Remember, he is a sick man with a disease. Accept this and don’t try to normalize him like others. Whatever he says, don’t feel bad about it because he doesn’t know what he is saying since his brain is not working.’ She paused and then continued, ‘And be ready for the worst. One day he will even forget who he is, where he is and how to go to the washroom. You will have to clean him every day.’

I nod, ‘We will do it.’

‘Finally, don’t exhaust yourself now by thinking about him all the time, sitting with him hour by hour, because you have no idea how many years he will live, if you put all your energy now how will you take care of him afterwards? He is a parent, he is your Daddy but you also have to understand that he is eighty, and when a person is old he has to go one way or the other, for him it is this way.’

Life is such a pain for some, I thought as I heard her out.

According to available evidence, on an average, patients with dementia live for eight to ten years after they are diagnosed but the disease can last up to twenty years.

36

I have never regretted my childhood or my adolescence. My childhood was full of fun, library books, cycling, dancing in the rain, playing chess, going to local fairs to watch wrestling bouts, and I had the best relationship with my brothers and sister.

While we were in Nigeria, Dadoo had allowed that for two hours in a day the kitchen will belong to we three – Vikram, Deepak and I – I was eleven, Vikram thirteen and Deepu just five. Everyday we tried new dishes. One afternoon we made burfis with cream, milkmaid, powdered milk, sugar, cardamom, raw papaya and coconut. Another afternoon we tried savoury delights. This practice continued as years went by and we grew up.

We had lots of friends coming over for surprise parties. Mamma made so many mithais and that too in huge quantities not only for entire Indian community there but also for other expatriates and our Nigerian friends. Our house resembled a halwai factory on Holi and Diwali with gulab jamuns, shakkar-pare, balushahis, burfis, ladoos and so many other delights. Entire family would turn into chefs.

Dadoo would take Vikram and me to the library three days in a week. He made us read Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Gorky and Dickens.

Once I told my father that my best friend, Samina, had so many dresses and shoes compared to me.

‘Do you like shoes and clothes?’ he asked. I nodded, not sure but then Samina had so many.

‘You want more?’ he asked.

I thought and said no. I could not say yes, even though Samina’s dresses and shoes loomed in my head.

‘So, what is the confusion?’ he asked as I contradicted my earlier statement. I kept quiet. I could not say that Samina had all this so I too should have them. And then he said, ‘If these things are so important for you, I will buy you lots of clothes and shoes but you have to be sure of what you want. Do not get things because someone else has them or wants them. It is not important to show off or to compete with others when in your heart you have no desire for that competition.’

This advice has stayed with me and has done a lot of good to me.

Dadoo always told tales about great men and women who succeeded against all odds. He believed that knowing about such personalities motivated and inspired you to move ahead. Several times he narrated instances from the life of Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela. His motto was: do not succumb to adversities, always put up a brave fight.

37

I was in class eleven in the year 1985 and Dadoo was posted in Rampur, about one hundred and seventy kilometres from Solan, where Mamma and Deepak were staying. One day Dadoo told me that I had to go to Solan alone in a bus; the journey was about eight to nine hours long. I became nervous.