Stress
and Joy of Decisions Not Taken
(Lesson I)
In the end, we only regret the chances
we did not, relationship we are afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too
long to make.
On
a wintery cold Sunday evening, when I was in the queen of hills, Simla now
Shimla, staying down in the sunny valley, the colony of ups and downs with one
of my class mate in commerce graduation and the other God sent Shimla friend
and his family, a tall slim Sikh gentle man along with a young girl and a
father figure entered our premises. They were greeted in great Indian rather
Punjabi style of “Pairinpauna and really touching their feet” by our Bhabi
Sahiban and “Matha Takedaaji” by others. We also greeted them the same way.
After pleasantries were exchanged and “Hall-Chall” ascertained, good pakora
snacks and boiling hot tea was served with all the love and affection at the
command of my God sent Shimla friend and his wife.
Then
started the session of introductions: we were introduced to these new arrivals
by my Simla friend, as Daddy ji called Bauji, lean thin figure with slightly
bent spine with turban Punjabi style but
clean shaven, his eldest son i.e. elder brother of Shimla friend, called Bhai
Sahib again very slim in White Punjabi Kurta Payjama and grey jacket and
Patiala Pugree supporting grey beard and
his daughter, Shimla friend’s niece called Bitiya in salwar kameez typical
Punjabi suit and a dark green full sleeves sweater with brown shawl, of course and fancy chappals perhaps she was
not aware of cold weather at Shimla, subsequently it became known that she had
not been to Shimla, in fact, to any hill station earlier. We also had our turn
in this introduction session.
A
joint family with three generations consisting nine persons, thus,
automatically sprang up in no time, it gave the fragrance of our own homes, the
home away from our homes. Bhai Sahib, stayed with us for two three days and
then left as he was a construction contractor perhaps of small jobs and there
was no body to look after the construction sites he was engaged. It was
motivating to talk to him about the relationship he was passing through that of
employer he-himself and labour he had employed to execute the jobs he was
getting - the lesson was,“ there is no substitute for hard work”, as those were
the days of physical hard work and we were not introduced to Information
Technology, Internet and computers. He appeared to be more a practical and
action man always ready to lead.
Daddy
ji stayed with us for some more time and we used to sit in the sun on holidays
and Sundays and we listened to his experiences and stories a hobby - with all elderly
people including myself who live on their past. After about a fortnight or so he
also left as he could not tolerate winter of Simla.
Daddy
ji was a widower. Bhai Sahib was also a widower. So Bitiya was a motherless
child and was alone, her elder sister having been married a few years before.
These days Bitiya was perhaps managing the household for her father and
grandfather. It looked like that after the death of her mother she had left the
schooling in between and did not complete even her higher secondary perhaps
their home needed her more and did not join any other educational stream
thereafter. The circumstances made her master of household management. We
noticed a marked change in our premises’ order and cleanliness.
She
was young born in 1947 and it was 1967 when she came to Shimla, just twenty
years young and vibrant with sharp features, looks were natural brown, with a
height of five feet, three-four inches with a smart gait, quite slim, with a
longish face, her attire used to be like any other Punjabi girl without any
modern touch perhaps that reflected the middle class household young girl,
manners were nothing modern but sober and straight, always ready to help and
take responsibility.
She
helped her aunty in all household chores and in also taking care of her young
children one boy and one baby. She helped particularly in washing, drying the
clothes and cooking too. She was good at cooking and we enjoyed hot food in the
Kitchen a necessity in Shimla that becomes luxury, if one can have food cooked
by somebody that too with lot of love and affection. There was some charisma in
her, the home had become more lively and vibrant.
Holidays
and Sundays were busy days for all of us for taking a bath as we skipped daily
bath in winters, washing clothes, drying them in the Sun, ironing of clothes,
keeping all the things in order and cleaning our room used ruthlessly for a
week or so and doing other odd jobs as we had no maid and perhaps those were
the days of part-time maid or no maids. This provided an opportunity to have a
chit chat with young girl when out in the sunny compound in a more informal way.
“The
choices you make now, the people you surround yourself with, they all have the
potential to affect your life, even who you are, forever.”
― Sarah Dessen
In
the afternoon after taking lunch it was time for going up to the Mall for
giving clothes for dry cleaning and having a cup of coffee at Indian Coffee
House and sometimes going for milk jalebi at Nathu Ki Dukan in the lower bazar
and also to buy essential not available at colony below. Family also went once
or twice month, but more so it was male affair to attend to jobs on the Mall.
Sunday
chit chat with the passage of time became livelier and slowly she opened up
cautiously, always afraid of her aunty, who was keeping a strict watch on all
her movements, although she was simple a homely girl. Responsibility of aunty
had perhaps enhanced many-fold after the death two female members of the
family-her mother-in-law and her sister-in-law. Aunty herself was an extremely
excellent human being and we were obliged to her as she had provided us home
away from home. Her caution was fully justified. One day, one of the elderly
ladies in our neighborhood told me in confidence that her aunty was suspicious
about the chit-chat we were having with each other which on a few occasions
spilled inside the home also although it was simple and frank nothing unusual,
personal or special. Slowly this chit chat developed into liking for each other
which was reflected by the affirmative answers and send off she used to give
every day while I was going to office, this was waving to me on high slops much
away from home and the way she used to address and she was always ready to
address our minor problems. In fact, she was a child that did not receive
desired love and affection in her teens, as her mother expired, sister got
married, father was busy in his construction work, grandfather was a widower
and no other family member brother or sister to talk to, uncle and aunt at Shimla
had their own family. She was left only with the household to manage and to
take care of herself. So she found satisfaction and solace in sharing her
feelings, thoughts, problems, differences and memories and wanted somebody to listen.
These were simple human issues that is why perhaps she developed a liking but
was always cautious and afraid. I also saw in her somewhere perhaps an image of
a life partner so I was on a move to find out her status about her future life;
but everybody was silent, no talk, no discussion or deliberation on this issue
ever and we never asked each other a direct question. After few days, I
happened to recollect different discussions taking place between Daddy ji, and
his two sons, on the night of arrival of Daddy ji, Bhai Sahib and his daughter
and I could understand she had already been committed by her father to
somebody.
I
the meantime, I was selected as an Assistant, in the Central Secretariat and
came to Delhi to pursue the turn in my career. Those were not the days of
mobile or ample landlines hence contact was lost and lost forever. That was the
march of life, a turn beautiful. No regrets no stress.
“Choose
your life’s mate carefully. From this one decision will come 90 percent of all
your happiness or misery.”
– H.
Jackson Brown, Jr.
“I don’t believe in taking right
decisions. I take decisions and then make them right.”
— Ratan Tata
No comments:
Post a Comment