Memories of Childhood

                                                                   I

It’s a late evening in October 2010, and a soft and cool breeze blows and gently ruffles the feathers of trees, Delhi is right in the middle of the transitional season which would end in a freezing, bone-chilling cold like every year preceding it.

Amidst this somber environment, a sobbing noise could be heard from an apartment, a fairly large one, right in the heart of the capital. Inside the apartment a young woman in her early 30s could be seen weeping uncontrollably whilst tightly hugging a man, not much older but weaker and frailer than her, the woman was my mother, and the man was her only brother, who was suffering from severe jaundice.

Once a tall, lanky, and handsome man, he was now reduced to the status of a bedridden patient completely dependent on his family for care. His face was the palest shade of yellow, his eyes watery and his body devoid of even the slightest of energy with words barely coming out of his mouth.

Debashish Ghosh, ‘Rinku’ as he was fondly called was in the last legs of his life, a life, not fully realized with much left to do, was coming to an abrupt end.

The reason why my mother was crying was because she felt guilty and helpless, guilty because we were supposed to leave for Pune for a week-long trip the next morning and the very thought of leaving her aching brother for a week and enjoying a vacation seemed unfair to her and helpless because she couldn’t bear the sight of her distressed brother but also couldn’t do anything about it.

Me, a 7-year-old schoolboy at that time, not fully grasping the situation naively watched everything unfold from the hall as my grandparents tried their best to console their daughter while holding back their own tears, finally, they managed to convince her to leave and take me home with her.

My mother, her eyes moist and her face a deep color of red, came to me and told me to say goodbye to ‘Mama’, I promptly did exactly that, though I was not sure whether he grasped what I said to him, and she took me by my hand and drove me home.

I, being the kid I was, swiftly forgot about the whole incident in anticipation of the trip that lay ahead of me.

                                                               II

Looking out the window of my school van, I could see an endless line of vehicles, some honking unnecessarily at each other in a bid to get ahead as quickly as possible, this was a regular occurrence, just as the schools went off every day, the roads became jammed and it became an absolute menace to drive on them, thankfully I was the first one to be dropped off.

“Thank You, Bhaiya!’’ I said as Punnu Bhaiya, my van driver pulled in front of my house. It was a bright and sunny December afternoon, winds, though blowing intermittently, were quite chilly and I quickly raced up to my house on the second floor of our building and rang the doorbell.

My grandmother, a short, plump, and sweet old lady opened the door. I quickly took off my shoes, raced to my room, threw my school bag and water bottle on the bed, and began frantically searching for my mom to tell her everything that had transpired in school that day, but she was nowhere to be found.

Grandma told me that she had gone to her parent’s house as Rinku Mama’s health had suddenly deteriorated further, I felt angry and betrayed, she had done this quite a few times before and though I hated it, I never said anything to her but today was the last straw.

I went up to the landline and rang up her cell.

(Ring Ring)

Mom: Hi Beta! How was school?

Me (sobbing furiously): WHY ARE YOU NOT AT HOME!? HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO SAY I WANT YOU AT HOME WHEN I COME BACK FROM SCHOOL!

Mom: Beta Mama is not well try to underst-

Me (still crying): NO BUT I WANT YOU AT HOME THAT’S IT, I JUST WANT YOU AT HOME, FROM THE NEXT TIME YOU SHOULD BE AT HOME WHEN I COME BACK, YOU WILL NEVER GO THERE OK!?

Mom: Ok Beta I promise I won’t come here from the next time please stop crying and have your food

Me: OK BYE

I finally hung up the phone, washed my now red face, changed my clothes and about half an hour later sat to have lunch with my grandfather in his room whilst watching TV with him, he was a fair, tall and well-built man who could be occasionally grumpy, the only thing he liked to watch on the TV the entire day were the reruns of C.I.D, a cop thriller of sorts airing since the last 12 or so years.

My Grandma served us her special Khichdi with Ghee as the C.I.D theme song blared in the background to mark the beginning of a new episode, just as she finished serving and we began eating, the landline rang, and she went to receive it in the other room.

A couple of minutes later I heard my grandma making weird noises, I was genuinely scared as it was unlike anything I had heard before, I could not make out whether she was sobbing or just laughing hysterically, though grandpa heard her too he didn’t pay much attention to it and continued to watch the TV, the noises continued for several minutes and I stopped eating and looked at the door of our room waiting for her to return, something was definitely up as the noises had become louder.

Finally, she came to our room, her face swollen and her eyes red with tears falling uncontrollably and announced:

 

“Rinku has passed away”

It was the 22nd of December 2010

                                                                III

“Aane waala pal jaane waala hai, ho sake to isme zindagi bita do pal jo ye jaane waala hai, oh ho…...”

I heard this song vividly as a flash of light blinded my eyes, it took some time for my eyes to adjust and my brain to start making sense of where I was.

Dirty narrow roads crowded by rickshaws in the middle and people on either side, children crying, women gossiping and haggling, street vendors trying to sell their wares and small eateries, yes eateries, they seemed familiar, ‘Qureshi Kebab Corner’ one read, ‘Mohobbat ka Sharbat’ read the other and suddenly I knew where I was, I was in Old Delhi, Jama Masjid to be precise, haven for Non-Veg Lovers like me.

Just as this realization dawned on me, I also realized that I had been walking all this time with someone who had taken me by my hand. I looked up at him and it took me a couple of seconds to realize who he was, a tall, lanky, fair and handsome man wearing a faded Levi’s Jeans, a tight fitted T-shirt and a pair of black sneakers, it was Rinku Mama!

Walking briskly and paving his way in the crowd, he looked as healthy as ever, “Just around here, dear nephew” he said as we turned left onto a street directly overlooking the main entrance of the Jama Masjid, walking a little further we turned left into an opening of sorts squished between two separate entrances of another eatery named Al-Jawahar. We walked through a short narrow passageway at the end of which a restaurant was revealed, it was none other than the legendary Karim’s, perhaps the single most famous restaurant in the entire Old Delhi.

“Today you’ll eat the best Non-Veg of your life,” he told me while smiling at me, I felt shock, excitement, and thrill rush through my veins, God knows how long I had been looking forward to such a day. I could still hear the song playing lightly somewhere, just couldn’t make out exactly where.

The waiter led us to our table which we shared with a couple, presumably Australian, I could make that much out of their accent, Mama started Chit-Chatting with them and suggested them some dishes that they could order, something they greatly appreciated.

While I watched this entire scenario unfold with a feeling of shock and awe, he then called the waiter and placed our order, Mughlai Chicken, Mutton Kebabs, and Rotis, and finally turned towards me.

Mama: So how have you been?

 

Me(in shock): Mama is that really you?

 

Mama: Yes, dear Nephew it is me, you have no idea how long I had been waiting for this day

 

Me: But how is this even possible?

 

Mama: I think you know the answer to that

 

Me: I-uh-know the answer? I don’t understand

 

Mama: Think about this scenario for a moment and try to guess

 

Me(thinking hard): You mean this is all a dream?

 

Mama: Precisely!

We then spent the next 20 minutes talking about how everyone was back at home, how my college life was, and what I wanted to pursue further, I just couldn’t believe I finally I had the opportunity to talk to the person I saw so little of my entire life, in such an intricate manner.

The waiter finally came back and served us our food, we ate in complete silence enjoying every bit of each other’s company and savouring the delicacies served to us, be it the warm and juicy kebabs with oil dripping from them, the freshly prepared Rumali rotis or the luscious and tender Mughlai Chicken, everything just seemed to taste better that day, as if prepared by chefs from heaven themselves.

After finishing our food, we went outside and had two helpings of Shahi Tukda each, it was heavy, creamy, and delicious and filled me up completely. Once we were done Mama asked if I was up for a walk inside the Jama Masjid, I readily agreed and we ascended the long flight of stairs to the magnificent mosque.

Once we were inside, we removed our shoes and started walking in the long compound hall used by devotees to offer their prayers, to my surprise it was completely empty, not a single soul in sight, it was just me and Mama in the middle of a long expanse.

Me: You know everyone misses you right?

 

Mama: I sure do, feels good to be loved even after death, knowing that your mere existence meant so much to so many people is in a way quite comforting

 

Me: So, what does it feel like to be dead?

 

Mama: It’s relaxing honestly, knowing that one has gone above the physicality and limitations of the human mind and body and transcended into a realm that shall forever remain unbeknownst to mankind, at least while they are alive, where one can continue to live peacefully for eternity.

 

Me(almost choking): That was-uh-beautifully put!

He chuckled

 

Mama: I always do regret not being able to see you grow up and spending time with you, I was very fond of you, you know?

 

Me: I do, Mom always tells me how you came to play with me pretty much evening once I was born and how you bought me an endless number of toys, I still have some of them you know.

 

Mama: Ah! The good old Days!

 

Me: In fact, it was because of your love for Kishore Kumar that I began to listen to his songs and now he is one of my favourite singers!

His eyes gleamed with pride as looked at me affectionately

 

Mama: You see dear nephew, my life was abruptly cut short but nothing can be done about it now and I am at peace with that, but you have your whole life ahead of you, make something of yourself, make your parents proud and even if you are able to leave a tiny mark in this gigantic world, you would have lived your life, you will always have my blessings and I will always love you!

I began crying and hugged him tightly, as we stood there hugging each other, I felt safe and happy, knowing that he was in a much better place and in much better health.

Suddenly, I felt the blinding flash of lights strike my eyes again and as I opened my eyes, I found myself on the couch of our living room with my speaker in front me playing songs.

I checked the time, it was 3:30 a.m. I had fallen asleep while listening to music, which wasn’t exactly a new thing, but what was different today was that I had a profound dream that showed me a glimpse of what my life could have been with the presence of someone whom I had known for such a short passage of time.

I smiled and turned to the other side of the couch, closed my eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep as yet another beautiful Kishore Kumar melody filled the room.

                                   “Zindagi ka safar hai ye kaisa safar, koi samjha nahi koi jaana nahi…….”