सच का सामना, चार साल पहले...

मैं सोचती थी िक "सच का सामना" करने के बाद शो के होस्ट का िजंदगी की ओर नज़रिया कुछ अलग ही होगा । ये जो पिछले कुछ िदनो घटा, माँ की तबियत ख़राब, hospitalisation, और िफ़र उसके बाद उनका अन्तिम संस्कार , इन सब ने मेरे जीवन के नज़रिये पर गहरा असर डाला । कुछ महीने पहले जब परेश अाया था तो कह रहा था कि इतना सब तो देख लिया, लोग सारा जीवन चीज़ों के पीछे भागते रहते है, कुछ पाने की होड़ में लगे रहते हैं, पर अपने दादू दीदा और यहाँ  दादू को देख कर लगा कि इस उम्र में all that matters is िक तुमने कितना प्यार अर्जित िकया, कौन तुम्हारे दुख सुख का भागीदार बनता है । उसकी बात मुझे तब भी सही लगी थी, पर अब तो लगता है कि इतनी छोटी उम्र में उसने जो सार समझा है लोग सारा जीवन लगा कर नहीं समझ पाते ।
कभी लगा ही नहीं िक माँ के जाने के बाद बाबा ऐसे खोए हुए बच्चे की तरह लगेंगे । न कुछ चाहत, न कुछ आशा, बस चुप से कहीं बैठ कर कुछ सोचते रहते हैं या िफर पीठ के पीछे हाथ बाँध कर घर में िनरूद्देशय से घूमते रहते हैं ।
जब भी घर में किसी चीज़ की कमी होती थी माँ जादू से कहीं से निकाल कर दे देतीं थीं । उनके जाने के बाद ख़ाली घर में हम सब आए, जब भी कुछ चाहिए होता है, कहीं न कहीं से िमल ही जाता है । जैसे माँ स्वयं supervise कर रहीं हों कि हम लोगों को कोई तकलीफ़ न हो ।
माँ, आप के जाने से सब ख़ाली हो गया, मन भी और घर भी । अब आप के घर को ऐसे छोड़ कर कैसे जाएँ ?

Money plant- 1% story

The dusk was setting in as we entered home. Last few days had been very hectic. We were in the process of winding up from our home of last fifteen years to move back to our home town in Kolkata. Besides the emotional upheaval of leaving our familiar zone, selling unwanted furniture, packing and shipping the rest of the stuff, planning other important aspects of the move and to top it all the regular dinner invitations from friends had taken a toll on us.
As our taxi stopped in front of the house we saw Baba's frail frame waiting in the balcony. He came down quickly to welcome us, made an attempt to help us with the extremely heavy luggage. He had already ordered the dinner for us and hot tempting tea was waiting in the kettle to relieve us of the strained over night journey. After tea I just strolled around, looking out for familiar objects, the newly constructed portion of the house that I had just gotten done few months back in anticipation of our quitting nomadic life and moving back to our permanent abode. The beautiful round verandah was ornated by plants and some garden furniture. Suddenly my eyes fell on the Money-plant placed on the dining table just below Ma's framed picture in a very familiar bottle.
It took me down the memory lane to that rainy evening when we hosted a surprise guest. We were on vacation in our family house in Kolkata, the rain and thunder was deafening. We were just about to pounce on hot serving of bhajiya when the bell rang unexpectedly. My husband Swapan went out to open the door and was majorly surprised to see a long forgotten cousin who had settled down in Uk never to return. He was drenching in the rain carrying a small suitcase and a shoulder bag.
Swapan immediately brought him in and Ma asked me to get a towel and dry clothes for him. After changing in to Swapan's kurta which was quite tight and short for him considering the size difference, he seemed to relax a little bit. His eyes were on the bhajiya plate. Ma asked him to be comfortable and have some bhajiyas and tea to sustain till dinner time. He readily took the plate but did not want tea, instead started fishing for something in his bag. The object of his engrossed search soon came out, a Chivas Regal bottle! Although we were a little embarrassed, we did not say anything and provided him with glass and ice. He invited Swapan to join him. The drinking session started and each time I tried to get him on the dinner table he said - a little later please. Slowly the draining of the bottle was visible and his emotional convulsion filled the atmosphere with a melancholic gloom. He started telling us his story about how he was ditched by his wife who after getting UK citizenship through him had dumped him for some one else and his own avenging affairs with other women. After a couple of hours he was not even in a position to get up and go to bed. It was almost impossible for us to carry his heavy body to the bedroom so we just made him comfortable on the sofa and went to sleep. Our evening snack, dinner and sleep all had been ruined.
We woke up in the morning to find him gone. His wet clothes were nowhere to be seen and Swapan's clothes were lying on the sofa. He had just left a thank you note saying that he wanted to quit drinking and was off to some unknown Himalayan destination in search of self realisation! We could not help but laugh out aloud. I started cleaning up the mess, picked up the whiskey bottle, the culprit from last night, was about to throw it in the garbage bin when Ma walked in. She took it from me and said - such a shapely bottle but what a waste! I kept wondering if her statement meant more than what was obvious while she cleaned it thoroughly, filled it with clean water and put some Money-plant branches in it. It looked nice, we placed it on the dining table as a reminder of that evening.
My next visit to Kolkata came very soon as suddenly Ma had passed away in her sleep, just as a calm person like her should go on her final journey. After going through all the rituals and seeing off all the relatives it was time for us to go back. We had framed Ma's picture and put on the dining wall above the chair she used to keep sitting on till each one of us finished our food. I glanced at the room before leaving and suddenly my eyes fell on the money-plant bottle. It had been carefully nurtured all these months. I took it to the kitchen sink with moistened eyes, changed the water and placed it on the table again instructing our cook to take good care of it.
After a year or so we decided to renovate and construct the remaining portion of the house. I stayed in Kolkata for long spans twice and got the work done. During all this, the bottle was displaced to many odd places. Sometimes the workers put it under some shade, sometimes some family member tried to get rid of it, but still the creeper survived in all it's glory. When I was ready to leave to prepare for my final shifting back home I looked at the Money-plant. The leaves had grown pale due to lack of care and sunlight. By now the plant had become like a good luck charm from Ma and I did not want to lose it.
Now after coming back to Kolkata, seeing it again in that familiar bottle, flourishing green leaves, sparkling clear water, I looked thankfully at the cook who smiled in return. I had no words to express the positivity it generated, I felt truly blessed by Ma for the new phase of our life! 

Indian Mother

The concept of Indian mother has changed so drastically over the years that it sometimes pricks the eye. There was an age, not too long ago, when Indian mother,wrapped in layers of her sari, was confined to kitchen. Full of love and totally devoted to daily needs of her children and other family members, she had no life of her own. Her wheatish complexion turned bronze due to constant contact with cooking fire, her large empathetic eyes, forehead adorned with big red sun like bindi and wrists full of bangles although did not provide her with any individuality but her anchor like strength kept the entire family ashore.
Then came the age of college educated mothers, mom like yours and mine. Modern indian woman, adapting changes in society, more concenscious about child rearing, able to handle pressure of modern education of kids, managing finances, cooking healthy meals, behaving like a supermom; still able to take out some time for her beauty and entertainment regime.
Although there have been many stages of evolution of motherhood some of the recent moms that I have seen are beyond any of the mom rules. I recently happened to see one such mom at the Airport. Dressed in a very short and tight outfit, loose uncontrollable hair, constantly on mobile, her two year old cute daughter invariably a burden on her disturbing her phone calls and intermittent tossing of loose locks stylishly. Each time the child tried to draw attention she would threaten her daughter with serious consequences including deserting her at the crowded airport. The child would just obstinately sit on the floor raising her arms towards the mother saying beseechingly - No mamma no, but it was beyond mom's capability to pick her up or bend down to console her because of the extra short dress! The child's forlorn eyes clearly indicated the insecurity seeping in her innocent mind. The desolate expression on her little face made my heart sink!
In this age of intellect over instinct each job requires specialised training. So,
should there be a specialised training for these very busy, professional moms about raising kids? Deeply engrossed in the thought I boarded my flight...