Raju returned to work today. My interaction with him today would easily be the most real conversation that this Man Friday has managed to have with me in the last 2 yrs. A short retrospect – As N says, a proud Marathi Manoos this Raju, in his attitude, his way of life, his demeanor, his Marathi pride that is almost transparent in his responses, in the way he grooms himself, and safe to assume, in his personal life. And this Man lost his (only) 3-year old son less than 15 days back. Tragic would be only an understatement.
Expectedly, (we) I was shaken to hear the news – sad for the man, anger at carelessness for having things (poison) lying around that was easily accessed by his son, disbelief and a nagging, wishful thought maybe this news is not true. But his confirmatory call twelve days later saying he wishes to join back, washed away all tentative possibilities.
Can’t describe the feeling – but something akin to ‘how am I going to face him’, ‘what would I say to this man whose tragedy cannot be supported by mere vocabulary, when he joins work on Mon?’ – nagged at my sub-conscience (I will not be surprised if N felt similarly).
So this morning the bell rang at 8:15 am (Raju’s time). Felt pretty rooted to the chair where I was, sipping my tea, (interestingly, Vanita too did not step out from the kitchen to answer the door as habit – may be similar reflexes!!). N got to the door and handed the car keys.
Cut to 10:30 am and the time for the car to pick me up and take me to the designer at Parel, was drawing near. The familiar irritant “kya kahoongi main usko’ kept nagging at my brain and I placed a call to N to find out how his morning chat with Raju went. N confirmed ‘Raju couldn’t have saved his boy… but he’s fine & strong…’
Raju came and I got into the car. I said, after few minutes of palpable silence ‘Raju! (pause) tumhari biwi sambhal gayi hain…’ Somewhere intuitively I had decided not to make him retell the story’. But I realized that the human being’s best bet to get used to a tragedy of this magnitude was to tell & retell the incident, again and again. So after a brave ‘..woh to roti rahti hai madam…’ came the story, every detail piece by piece, and with a retrospect of how he had spent the earlier day with his son, catering to every whim of his’, savoring every moment, every legitimate and fond wish being granted by a father, a friend till that very last moment. I just let him speak, consumed with a strange feeling, just letting a father tell me, and so hear himself thank God for the preceding 20 odd hours before the tragedy struck, telling himself that he has been a good father, that his son lived a life full of energy & spirit (woh to idhar udhar daudta rehta tha… main to usdin school mein naam daalke aya tha..) that he would spend his holidays devoted to his only child and till the end… did his utmost, notwithstanding the probable hospital bills, notwithstanding moving the child under more specialist care, notwithstanding….
One trait was constant – the pride – not broken in tragedy ‘main theek hoon…’ he even managed to slip that in, a proud father, not at all bitter, reminiscing, recounting, smiling almost constantly and I slowly felt admiration… I cannot confidently use the cliché that he was ‘putting up a brave front’ coz I’m not sure. The very phrase has a hint of the ‘contrived’ in it and I am very sure that this Raju was anything but that today!
Today’s Raju was definitely not a Father mourning the loss of his dear son. In those hours that I listened to him, Raju was a proud Father reveling in the memory of his son’s living & life, finding pride that he’d managed to be a doting father in the few years that his son lived, perhaps thanking God for the last 20 hrs of their ‘connectedness’.
Raju you’ve chosen to be happy with the bits & nuances, and even if it a choice for the moment, it’s real, it’s beautiful and I Salute you for that.
May this be your way of mourning & praying for the little boy of yours, and keeping him alive!!
Expectedly, (we) I was shaken to hear the news – sad for the man, anger at carelessness for having things (poison) lying around that was easily accessed by his son, disbelief and a nagging, wishful thought maybe this news is not true. But his confirmatory call twelve days later saying he wishes to join back, washed away all tentative possibilities.
Can’t describe the feeling – but something akin to ‘how am I going to face him’, ‘what would I say to this man whose tragedy cannot be supported by mere vocabulary, when he joins work on Mon?’ – nagged at my sub-conscience (I will not be surprised if N felt similarly).
So this morning the bell rang at 8:15 am (Raju’s time). Felt pretty rooted to the chair where I was, sipping my tea, (interestingly, Vanita too did not step out from the kitchen to answer the door as habit – may be similar reflexes!!). N got to the door and handed the car keys.
Cut to 10:30 am and the time for the car to pick me up and take me to the designer at Parel, was drawing near. The familiar irritant “kya kahoongi main usko’ kept nagging at my brain and I placed a call to N to find out how his morning chat with Raju went. N confirmed ‘Raju couldn’t have saved his boy… but he’s fine & strong…’
Raju came and I got into the car. I said, after few minutes of palpable silence ‘Raju! (pause) tumhari biwi sambhal gayi hain…’ Somewhere intuitively I had decided not to make him retell the story’. But I realized that the human being’s best bet to get used to a tragedy of this magnitude was to tell & retell the incident, again and again. So after a brave ‘..woh to roti rahti hai madam…’ came the story, every detail piece by piece, and with a retrospect of how he had spent the earlier day with his son, catering to every whim of his’, savoring every moment, every legitimate and fond wish being granted by a father, a friend till that very last moment. I just let him speak, consumed with a strange feeling, just letting a father tell me, and so hear himself thank God for the preceding 20 odd hours before the tragedy struck, telling himself that he has been a good father, that his son lived a life full of energy & spirit (woh to idhar udhar daudta rehta tha… main to usdin school mein naam daalke aya tha..) that he would spend his holidays devoted to his only child and till the end… did his utmost, notwithstanding the probable hospital bills, notwithstanding moving the child under more specialist care, notwithstanding….
One trait was constant – the pride – not broken in tragedy ‘main theek hoon…’ he even managed to slip that in, a proud father, not at all bitter, reminiscing, recounting, smiling almost constantly and I slowly felt admiration… I cannot confidently use the cliché that he was ‘putting up a brave front’ coz I’m not sure. The very phrase has a hint of the ‘contrived’ in it and I am very sure that this Raju was anything but that today!
Today’s Raju was definitely not a Father mourning the loss of his dear son. In those hours that I listened to him, Raju was a proud Father reveling in the memory of his son’s living & life, finding pride that he’d managed to be a doting father in the few years that his son lived, perhaps thanking God for the last 20 hrs of their ‘connectedness’.
Raju you’ve chosen to be happy with the bits & nuances, and even if it a choice for the moment, it’s real, it’s beautiful and I Salute you for that.
May this be your way of mourning & praying for the little boy of yours, and keeping him alive!!
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