eFiction India eFiction India Vol.02 Issue.09 | Page 64

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STORIES

be reading the paper bags without uttering a single word. Eventually, Grandpa
would gulp the bitter tea without making
a face. Since it was not yet time to leave for
school, Parijat would tell her mother, “Maa,
Grandpa is here.”

nor did he take part in politics. Instead, he
spent most of his time drinking. He used
to ask Grandma for the money received
from rents and then blow it away drinking.
Even though he used to drink, he was never
ill-mannered. He would drink and come
back and sit with Grandma in the kitchen.
“Let him be there,” her mother would Even the members of the extended family
respond without any interest.
sharing the same courtyard never used to
know when Grandpa came into the house
Parijat used to get angry with her mother or when he left.
and say, “Why are you answering like that?
He is your father.”
Gradually as Grandma was not able to
move, she could not look after the field or
Mother used to mutter angrily, “If he runs manage the labourers working in the fields.
to my house time and again because he She could not collect rents from the tenants
wants to take his opium pills, where will I and all the houses in the town had to be
get money to give him?”
locked. At that point, Grandpa gave up
drinking and began using opium. Grandma
Parijat would get irritated with her mother died. As a result of her death, Grandpa did
and say, “Talk softly. He can hear you.”
not have money for opium.
Mother would suddenly scream and say,
“Why are you showing off? Go and fetch
the five rupees coin tied to the corner of
my wet saree drying on the rooftop and give
it to him.”

Parijat was not aware of when Grandpa had
started asking for money from her mother.
But whenever he came to their house, both
Parijat and her mother could understand
that he needed money. As soon as she saw
Grandpa her mother would start getting
It would soon be time for Parijat’s school. irritated.
She would run to the rooftop with heavy
steps. She would get the five-rupees coin In a similar way, Parijat’s son did not like
tied to a corner of her mother’s wet saree many things about her; her rounded and
and give it to Grandpa. Grandpa would not healthy arms, her way of giving opinions
say a word. He would put the money into on everything like a wise person, her habit
his pocket, sit for a while longer and then of murmuring songs to herself in the bathwould leave, putting on his slippers made room and kitchen. Parijat could not please
from tyres. Parijat would feel like revolting her son by putting on an ordinary saree; she
against her mother; her mother appeared could not feed on stale food; she could not
so heartless. But she could do nothing. She pretend to be an innocent country woman
would leave for school, resting her books from the village. Perhaps he preferred a
on her chest.
mother like Yasoda .
Parijit’s mother used to say that Grandpa
was an irresponsible man. He had done
nothing in his life except maybe for being
involved in the fight for freedom of the
country. Grandma used to do everything
right from looking after the lands and the
men working there to collecting the rents
from the tenants. When the country got
freedom from British rule, Grandpa did
not do anything; neither service nor business. Neither did he look after his lands

eFiction India | June 2014

Had Grandpa been as worthless to her
mother as Parijat was to her son?
Part VII

P

ARIJAT WAS GETTING pulled
without being aware—just like a
dry piece of wood being washed
away by the force of a wave or maybe like

a flower falling off from the tree and being
taken aimlessly by the wind. She was thinking about right and wrong, virtue and vice.
Under what circumstances, under what pretense, and whether it was an auspicious day
or a dreadful one, she could not fathom
how it all happened. She was swimming
further and further away from her place
of origin. When she was in the middle of
the river, she realized she had a family, had
children, had dreams, and had happiness
as well as miseries. How could she give up
her world at this time? She was against her
world without even realizing it.
Parijat was absentminded, as if she didn’t
exist in this world. When her son would
come back with a bruise on his knee after
falling off his bicycle, she would not say,
“oh” out of pity; neither was she upset nor
did she run hither thither. It was as if this
accident had a place in the list of events
that details the good and bad things of
life. When Aravind would come back from
office with a fight with his boss, she would
not go to him to offer any consolation.
When her daughter would fail her literature exam, Parijat would not give any long
lectures on the importance of the mother
tongue and the motherland.
She was thinking of something and getting
excited. She wet her eyes out of frustration.
She had something which was her very own,
very secretive which no one else could
get any trace of. She felt she was getting
younger. She loved watching herself in the
mirror.
She said, “There is no difference at all
between love and spirituality. Both of these
things make you disenchanted towards the
world. Both these things rest on intense
madness. The desire to become one is prevalent in both these things. The road leading
to both these things is crooked and never
straight. Both these things embody similar
entities and experiences.”
Aravind would laugh at her words and questioned, “Are you in love? Are you thinking
about doing research on ‘love and spirituality?’ Are your limits only till love or are