Things have been a bit difficult ...........

Last month I had to visit my grandparent’s place, somewhere in the remote interiors of Rajasthan. I was trying to figure out a good excuse to avoid the visit yet again, but it was inevitable this time. Grandma had laid down strict instructions: ‘This time it will be you who would have to come here, not us. It has been seven years since you last visited this place.’ None of the excuses worked and we left for a 4 hours drive.

It was not like I did not wanted to meet my grandparents, in fact it was for the first time since my brother got admitted to college that we both would be seeing grandpa and grandma; but it was the place that I did not liked. I pretend to have had not so good memories of the place. Same old haweli - the tenants; the well tamed baghicha; the outer open space – the chowk; the inner small square shaped amphitheatre – the bhaithak; the main entrance gate – giving the haweli a look of a small castle - though now the gate looked like a rickety lump of wood, unable to stop the street dogs to peek through and enjoy the shady and cool chowk area. I remember the pomegranate tree in the baghicha and wondered if it still existed and if Kalu kaka – the gardener would still allow me to grab a pomegranate or two. I remember the huge water tank in the backyard carrying muddy water where in me and my cousins used to bath and pretend as if we were swimming by making absurd strokes here and there knowing that it is too shallow to get us drained. I remember the adjoining school where my grandpa was one of the cofounders and that gave us the license to use the ground to play cricket even during the school hours – I could hardly keep a count of the number of glass windows panes of the academic block, we had thrashed while playing cricket. I also remember the market next to the school where I used to force grandma to buy me sour tamarind even though it would end up choking my throat. Then I remember the mason in the market, Bhola who never forgot to offer me an orange candy, every time I would visit the market. I remember the temple where in me and Ankur used to aim, throw stones and then collect the java plums from the nursery.

Oh yes, Ankur, that is what was missing in the description. Did I mention it or not, that in every act of mine, Ankur was very much an acquaintance, a follower, an unconditional friend. His family was one of the tenants we had in our haweli. In all the mischievous acts, it would be me who would plan the activity and it would be he to try it out first. Even if he would feel like disagreeing, all he would say will be: ‘It is not good baba (that’s what he called me), dada sahib (my grandpa) and kaka sahib (my father) would get angry. But if you want I will do it for you. ’ He would get the pomegranates from the baghicha without the permission of Kalu kaka for me, he would get the cricket ball out of the restricted area of the dargah for me – I still wonder how he managed that because the watchman Rahim Khan was considered to be cruel person and specially got pissed off by children looking for cricket balls.

But how is he now? Is he okay? Then I remember grandma telling me during the last visit that he had lost his father of a stroke and is engaged in a family feud over paternal land. He was in desperate need of cash. Financial help - shall I help him, I thought. But why should I help, he is just a tenant and I am the landlord, why should I get involved into this; I have enough problems to deal with myself so why strain myself with this.

As soon as I reached the place, I saw Raju the helper, waiting for us to take the luggage. From the corner of my eye I was looking for Ankur as I passed across the chowk near his room but I found no one. It was a warm welcome from the people there. Hugs and greetings from a dozen of people, I always fail to recognize. They all analyzing me and my brother as if we were the rare endangered species they have had a chance to see. Then there were people asking about the life in Delhi and Kolkata. In all this I almost forgot about Ankur. Then in the night I asked about him and grandma told me, the poor chap has been following up with the lawyers for his dispute and the sahukars (money lenders) for the money he desperately needed, his father’s death has taken a toll of his studies as well.

The next morning I woke up early in the morning to make sure I meet Ankur before he left. But by the time I came down, he was all set to leave. He saw me, I gave a smile and he returned a little dry grin.

‘Hey how are you baba, it has been long that I have seen you here.’ His chirpy smile and enthusiasm were all gone.

‘I am fine, how about you. You look down and low.’

‘Hm, things have been a bit difficult, but I am learning to live with it. How about you, your job, I hope that it is all going nicely.’ He had lost his father and almost all the assets and then he says that it has been a bit difficult.

‘If I may help, please don’t hesitate …. I mean …’ I wish I never said that, maybe I did not wanted to hurt his ego, these remote people rely a lot on ego; but primarily I was doubtful if I really wanted to help him financially. The mean me!

He shrugged ‘Thanks.’

Did he read my intensions of not helping actually? Did he realize that I am being a selfish guy just offering help for the sake of saying it? He left me with all these questions unanswered.