A World Within (16 page)

He felt that money, power, fame is nothing compared to an educated mind. Education brings you security, satisfaction and of course with it comes the practicality of life, including money, power and fame. But it does not happen vice versa.

He never gave tuitions for money. I asked him once, ‘What if someone wants to learn and someone wants to teach. Is it not right that the teacher teaches and student learns and pays the fees? What is wrong with this arrangement?’

He said thoughtfully, ‘It is not wrong on the part of the student but it is morally and consciously wrong on the part of the teacher, since he does not do his work properly in the classroom, that is why the student wants to learn outside the class.’

Many of his students would come to the staff room and also to our house with their problems. He would attend to their queries.

When the tuitions were banned in Himachal in 1992, he was extremely excited and happy. He wrote numerous letters to editors and to the chief minister’s office lauding the decision. He also taught many poor children at home, students who were not even in his class. He said, ‘It is better that I clear their doubts otherwise they will lag behind because they do not have money for private tuitions.’

Sometimes I feel that he could have started an academy and taught for free. It would have kept him mentally and physically alert.

44

25 June 2011

I am reading the book
Who Moved My Cheese
?

‘What is this book about?’ Dadoo asks.

‘It is …’ I trail off, how do I explain?

‘What is cheese?’ he asks intrigued.

‘It is …’

‘Paneer,’ says Mamma.

Daddy frowns, ‘Does it mean, who moved my paneer?’ he asks innocently. I just don’t know what to say as tears fill my eyes. I recall some three years back he had read this book and said, ‘The writer has explained changes and challenges in life in an interesting way.’ And now cheese is paneer!

Suddenly he shifts gears, ‘What is Deepu’s position? Is he working in a bank?’

‘Yes, Dadoo, he works in a bank, he is the vice president.’

‘Vice president, is this a senior position?’

‘Yes, Dadoo, very high position.’

‘Which bank?’

‘Deutsche Bank, this is a German bank.’

‘Does this bank have a branch in India too?’

‘No, Dadoo’ I want to keep it simple.

‘So that means he cannot be transferred to India?’

‘No, Dadoo, moreover he is very senior, there is no position of an equivalent level here in India.’

‘Oh! What position does he hold at the bank?’

‘Vice president.’

‘Really! In which bank?’

‘It is a German Bank.’

‘Can he not be transferred here?’ There is no stopping him, he goes on and on till I pick up the book and leave the room to escape.

45

2 July 2011

We take Dadoo for a walk on the forest road. He loved this stretch, and used to say, ‘Early in the morning a brisk walk brings bounce and vitality.’ Today he is very hyper. Some of this energy will be released in a brisk walk, Rohit thinks.

‘I have a piece of land on the way,’ he says.

‘It is not on this road, Dadoo,’ I hastily reply.

‘I know there is, you do not know. I have a plot somewhere here and another one a little ahead. It has been a long time since I have been here. Now I have forgotten everything,’ he whispers.

I am quiet, so is Rohit. There is no use arguing with him.

‘Rohit, do you know the
patwari
[village accountant] of this area?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘Ask him to get the details of this land. But what will one patwari do, I have so many plots, they are scattered at different places. For each area there will be a different patwari. You will have to ask each one of them to help you in identification, only then will we get to know the exact details,’ he says seriously.

‘I will get the details,’ Rohit murmurs.

‘I have another plot near the water tanks. It is an amazing plot – totally flat and sunny. It is a first class plot. Let us go there,’ he says excitedly.

‘The tanks are in different direction, we will go there some other time,’ I say exasperated.

‘Okay, then let us see the ones that are on this road. Here if we keep on walking I have a plot ahead of the village. I have at least ten to fifteen plots here in all,’ he says confidently pointing vaguely.

He is scaring me.

‘I have a plot in Shimla too.’

‘Yes, you do,’ I lie.

‘Where is it?’ he asks quickly.

‘Near Tara Devi,’ I sheepishly look at Rohit, he smiles. We have become polished conspirators.

‘Is there a house on that plot?’

‘No, Dadoo, just a plot.’

‘Is it lying unattended?’

‘It is safe, Dadoo, no one has encroached it.’

‘Is it fenced? Is there a boundary wall there?’

‘Yes, Dadoo,’ I sigh.

‘Is it safe?’

‘Yes, Dadoo.’

‘When we go from Solan to Shimla, there is a place on the way and I have a plot there too.’

‘Yes, Dadoo it is in Tara Devi only,’ I say firmly. This is just too much. There is a need to stop this conversation. How much will we lie!

‘No, there is another place, which place is this?’ he persists.

‘Kandaghat.’

‘No, what comes after that?’

‘Shoghi.’

‘Yes, I have a plot there too. I don’t know where else I have plots, I have forgotten. We will have to enquire.’

‘Okay, Dadoo, we will try to locate these,’ I assure him. I am scared, what if he asks me to take him to his plot in Shoghi? Oh God, Ritika – my friend – has a plot there, I will tell him that it belongs to him!

46

We often make comparisons between the elderly and children. So many times one has heard, ‘Take care of the old people, they behave like kids.’

In reality, this is so different. It drains you completely. Children learn new things every day while old people forget things daily. Taking care of the elderly does not mean mere boarding and lodging, you should have ample time in your hands to listen to their stories, to answer their questions repeatedly and explain things to them patiently. You should also have time to take care of their daily routine – bathing, combing their hair, wiping their mouth clean after meals, cutting their hair and nails …. It is a mammoth task.

The elderly have a baggage full of experiences and they have rigid habits. They live with their successes and failures. Even when they are losing their memory, their brain cells keep on throwing up these strains anywhere, anytime. Remembering and not-remembering at the same time sets in motion an unending chain of despair. Patients with dementia lose all their behaviour patterns and acquired learning. Their minds are broken and they are not sure of anything. Being awake and being in a dream is the same for them. One day they keep on crying and the next day they are completely withdrawn and quiet. On some days they sit with their head in their hands in sheer despair while on others they are hyper-active.

With their ability to give meaning to the world around them gone, they resemble a little baby but this is not a happy state. This is not the innocence of a small child. This is a chaotic world of a man who is not able to come to terms with what is happening to him. Watching him losing his mind is agonizing and breaks you down physically and mentally.

47

3 August 2011

Today was a great day. I got a call from Dadoo on my cell phone after I don’t know how many weeks. There was no Vikram or Mamma to help him out with the number: He dialled my number himself, and he was so alert and so full of life, laughing boisterously.

‘Where are you?’ he asked.

‘I am in the library.’

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I am working on a book on Bilaspur.’

‘Oh. Do you know the name Amrit Lal, a very important man of Bilaspur?’

‘Of course he was my Dada, your father,’ I said happily.

‘Do you know he was the adviser to the Raja of Bilaspur.’

‘Yes,’ I mumble.

‘Well, he was not exactly adviser, more a consultant. He didn’t get paid through the royal treasury; you have to write the truth. It won’t be nice if you distort the truth,’ he said gravely.

I was amused. ‘What about you? Dadoo, were you the first MA in Bilaspur state?’ I asked.

‘I am not sure but I think I was the first MA and also I was the first Bilaspuri to join as a lecturer in government college. All the others were from outside the state. If you want all this information you should talk to Malkiet, he knows everything.’

My heart gladdened, it is after months that he remembered this name on his own. ‘I will do that,’ I said.

He persisted, ‘You will have to go Bilaspur and ask other people. Don’t write a book that is not true and something which will hurt the sentiments of others.’

I feel guilty. Is he talking about himself?

‘You will not do that, will you?’ he persisted.

‘No, Dadoo, I will not do that.’

‘I have heard that my pension has increased.’

‘Yes, Dadoo.’

‘By how much?’

‘About two thousand rupees.’

He laughs happily, ‘So now I am a rich man.’

‘Yes, you are,’ I reply affectionately.

‘Even your father-in-law’s pension has increased.’

‘Yes. Everyones’ pay has increased.’

‘I see. Where are you?’

‘In the library.’

‘Yes, yes, you told me. I forgot.’ he says. ‘How long will you be there?’

‘Another two hours.’

‘Okay, when you go home call me,’ and he disconnected the call.

These two minutes were so different, it was as if I was talking to a different man. But I know I should not be over ambitious. There is no cure for this disease. It is just as the doctor says that in between he will have flashes of normality and I guess this was one.

What kind of a person have I become? When he behaves normally I feel he is not normal, it is just a phase. How very comfortably we adjust to situations.

48

11 August 2011

Today was ‘plant day’ for my darling Dadoo. Since morning he had called up more than ten times and interestingly on all the three phones – my cell phone, Rohit’s cell phone and the landline. Surprisingly it has been after a long time that Dadoo talked about his plants.

His passion is gardening and for several years after retirement he has been concentrating on it. Our house is popularly known as
phoolon wali kothi
(house of flowers).

And as they say everything is fair in love and war so is it for my Dadoo in terms of plants. He will steal, beg and lie to procure the plants that he wants. Several times he has embarrassed us by entering peoples’ houses uninvited, requesting them to give him specific plants. Any town he visited, he would always go to the nursery or park. Even in hospitals where he went to visit family members or friends, he would get engrossed in the plants around.

Once I remember, in Rock Garden, Chandigarh, he kind of, well to put it bluntly, stole a plant and hid it in his coat pocket. I was so worried that someone would catch hold of us. This was wrong and it was pure theft but you could not argue with Dadoo. He said, ‘Don’t worry, I am going to give life to this plant.’ And then as months went by he started neglecting this passion and concentrated more on other stressful things – land, files, income tax, and of course what was happening to him.

Any way, it was a delight for me to talk to him in the morning. All the ten times the conversation went on like this:

‘Rewa, when are you coming?’

‘Day after tomorrow,’ pat I replied. I am getting comfortable in this mould of pretension and lies, knowing very well that my replies would give him momentary joy and he would forget about it soon.

‘Mera ek kaam tha
[I had one job for you].’

‘Yes, Dadoo,’ I murmur. Dread clutching my heart, what would it be and will I be able to do it. May be he had lost a file or is going to ask me whether there was any remedy for his illness but he surprised me, ‘When you come day after tomorrow bring some plants.’

Delightedly I said, ‘Of course, how many do you want?’

‘Bring around twenty or twenty-five and two types of plants.’

Though I did not understand, I was happy.

‘
Aadhe jo zameen par lagte hain aur adhe jo gamlon mein
[some that can only be planted on the ground and others for the pots],’ he says explaining.

‘I got it, very well, Dadoo, I will get these,’ I replied.

‘From where will you bring them?’

‘There is a nursery nearby,’ I said.

‘When are you coming?’

‘Day after tomorrow.’

‘
Toh mera ek kaam hai
.’

‘Hanji, Dadoo, your plants.’

‘Yes, but do not bring rose, I have many.’

‘Achha ji,’ I say.

‘How much would they cost?’

I quickly say, ‘One plant for five rupees.’ I have no idea about the rate of plants but this price seemed comfortably low.

‘Five rupees, that is very expensive,’ he exclaims.

‘I will try to bring them for free,’ I reply blatantly lying.

‘Do you know someone in the nursery?’

‘Of course, my friend works there.’ Another lie.

‘Okay,’ he was satisfied with this reply. I put the phone down and then after every two minutes it rang and the same conversation took place. On Rohit’s phone too he spoke about plants. Only there was one difference, once during these phone calls he said, ‘When you go to the nursery and you are selecting the plants give me a call. I want to speak to the gardener personally about what I require.’

Oh, how I wish I could make him talk to the gardener!

49

11 August 2011

Today was another difficult day, after a long time. By a long time I mean two weeks since the medicine has been changed again. Yesterday Dadoo was so calm. I can’t say happy but I can’t even say that he was restless. Things were fine but today in the morning everything went haywire.

Just as I took a bath he woke up. There was so much misery, helplessness, insecurity and fear on his face. ‘How can you go? Don’t go? What will happen to me? I don’t know anything about myself, my mind does not work. I don’t remember anything, I have so many problems. I don’t know where my papers are. The whole night I did so much of work,’ he poured out. He has started hallucinating, he dreams but he thinks they are real.