A Perfect Life

   Kausalya stacked her sarees inside the small suitcase in two neat rows of cotton and silk sarees. Most of them were her favourites, and she had worn them to her heart’s content. She gathered her salwar suits and was about to spread them on top of the pile when she heard a light knock on her door. Kamlesh stood outside the door, smiling.

“Going out for a short vacation?” she inquired.

“No Kamlesh. I’m just tidying up my clothes, or else this small suite gets cluttered up easily with my things. My summer, winter and monsoon clothes are all mixed up in a mess,” she said.

Kamlesh nodded. “True. Our Studio Suite is more like a hotel accommodation. But it has become like our little universe now. We can always apply for a two-bedroom apartment whenever we’re ready for it. I heard our applications would get a priority  over the ones who are not Residents of Ananda,” she smiled.

“You’re so right,” said Kausalya.

Kamlesh’s eyes lingered on the sarees in the small suitcase.

“Lovely sarees, each one of them. You’ve an impeccable taste.”

“Thanks,” smiled Kausalya, now sorting her salwar suits.

“See you around lunch time,” said Kamlesh and left.

Kausalya spread the salwar suits on top of the sarees.

Lovely sarees, each one of them. She had grown used to such comments. At times they made her feel uncomfortable. Also, curious. These women go to the very same retail outlets.  How come the ‘good’ sarees escape their notice? It always puzzled her, because she had a trick. If she didn’t find any saree that was good enough, she would just walk out without buying anything. Simple! She has walked past the cash counter after seeing the display in many special exhibition sales and textile shows. She chided herself for her staying thoughts. She was going to donate these clothes to the Missionaries of Charity. Must hurry up and get dressed.  The Ananda car she had booked for would come on the dot, as all the drivers are rostered, and are punctual. She closed the suitcase and zipped it firmly.

She thought of Rekha, a dear friend whose sense of humour saw her through the most trying times. She was diagnosed with multiple meningitis, and was in and out of hospitals for a battery of tests that continued for a long time until she reached a  plateau and got a breather. Kausalya got organised with a few of their mutual friends for a quiet celebration for this healing period, for Rekha. They gathered at her place with flowers, cards, cake and food from home. Kausalya propped her card on Rekha’s bedside. ‘To our very own Rekha, a role model for courage, indomitable will and carefree laughter’ it said, in a large flowing hand.

“Arre! Let me tell you the secret behind my indomitable will,” said Rekha, her smile bright despite a drawn face that had gone pale and wan due to her prolonged illness.

“It’s very feminine. My clothes have a big role to play,” she declared, laughing breezily. Her head rested on a pile of pillows. Her face had thinned out, much of her hair  had turned white, but she was still their Rekha, with shining eyes and a kind of smile that made others smile back involuntarily. It was so compellingly warm and friendly.

“You know, as I lay on the hospital bed with so many tubes thrust into me, surrounded by depressing doctors and nurses, my nice sarees and dresses swam inside my closed eyes. I’m very fond of them because many of them are gifts from people I love, including all of you. What a waste it would be to die without wearing them again,” she quipped.

Her friends laughed heartily. One of them said it’s such a healthy thought that often comes to the rescue of women when they feel depressed. A good dress is a mood-lifter, like good food, she added and wondered aloud if men also tend to think on these lines.

“Not a chance,” retorted Shashi. “They just get depressed all too easily and hit the bottle. And why ever not? It’s a luxury they can very well indulge in. They know that the wifey would be around to mollycoddle them and the community won’t blame a male for drinking.”

“Yes Shashi,” said Rekha, laughing.  She sat up now, propped by her pillows, fully alert. “Hey, what have you all got for our girlie party?”

“Guess what I got? Tomato-coriander rasam,” said Kausalya, showing her a large Thermos flask. “It’ll work as an appetizer too, and help you eat the rest of the things.”

“What a darling you are! I can guzzle litres  of rasam,” laughed Rekha.

“Oooh!” said the rest of the friends. “Save some for us. We love it too!”

“I know. That’s why I’ve got two large flasks filled with rasam.”

“Yaaye! No need to go all the way to Neivedyam restaurant in Hauz Khas Village, for rasam with fried papad,” said Mini.

***

Ananda. It was a home for senior citizens who could afford the cost, because it was  almost utopian in the things it offered – quality health care, car rentals with drivers who could be trusted, gym, yoga, Meditation Hall, library, swimming pool, Internet facility, OTT Streaming, area for games like snooker, badminton court and tennis for the outdoor types, picnics and outings, visits to family…you name it.  Ananda had sunny, well-appointed, Two-Room Deluxe Suites, Junior Suites, Studio Suites, Two-roomed apartments with a mini- kitchenette that had a facility for an induction unit, should the residents wish to make tea/coffee for themselves and their visitors. All of them had a pleasing décor. In addition, there was a common lounge area where the residents could meet each other for a chat, a dining room that served good breakfast and healthy meals with a multicultural menu that was rotated to take care of everybody’s preferences. There were helps who came into clean, dust and change the bed and table linen.

One couldn’t ask for more. It insulated you from any kind of discomfort except for one’s health issues, for which there was quality health care. It would be churlish to criticise and indulge in nit-picking. Kausalya often wondered if the other residents of Ananda got this niggly feeling that they now had to deal with, ‘the problem of plenty’. Of course, there were the inevitable rumblings among the residents, but they were mostly from within the various camps that had formed themselves. To be sure, there were petty squabbles too, jealousies and resentment about whose son/daughter was good and caring, who was neglected and never visited by his/her family and so on. Under the veneer of living in well furnished rooms with all modern amenities, the ugly underbelly showed up occasionally. One got to hear about some children and other members of the family who had all but ‘written off’ their parents to Ananda, after they had taken this momentous decision to move them into an elder care home.  Now their parents  had to live with other seniors ‘like a family,’ sink or sail together. Having grown frail with age, it was very difficult to manage a household on one’s own. It was dangerous too, in a city like Delhi with its high crime record of armed burglaries, murders and thefts that were routinely reported in the papers. ‘Ananda’ cushioned them in safety and offered physical security, even if it could not do much about some elderly men who still had a ‘glad eye’ for certain women residents. It was largely up to the women to deal with it, like they must have all done through their lives, before they came here.

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Trust people to have friction among themselves. Even if you put them in a lush island on a paradise, they’ll find reasons to argue, fight and become unhappy. Kausalya recalled with amusement the times when her husband Kartik was still around. A few of their friends and acquaintances had opted to sell off their property and live on the campus of Auroville in Pondicherry. Whenever they came to Delhi for a conference, a seminar or to visit relations, they heard a familiar story.  An outspoken friend told them,  “It’s the same set of strategies even in Auroville. There is no moral policing. One chap tells me about his new conquests and affairs, the other one is there actually to run away from his wife who now divides her time between their son and daughter in the USA. Yet another man is always complaining about his ungrateful children. They’re not able to escape from themselves, even in Auroville,” he finished, with a wry smile.

We are nicely ensconced within a comfort zone that cushions us from physical discomfort, reflected Kausalya. Yet,  something weighed heavy on the heart. Couldn’t put a finger on it. All of us are senior citizens living on borrowed time, counting our days before we go from this world. Is this all we wanted to achieve, to have worked well, saved enough to afford a place like Ananda and then escape from all things that are uncomfortable? What brings on  this numbed feeling that makes one think one has almost stopped living, that one is just going through the motions of a formulaic pattern of eating, sleeping, yoga, working out at the gym, playing badminton or tennis – all a part of playing ‘a game of being happy’? Other than missing Kartik, her husband who luckily pre-deceased her, she couldn’t locate what was missing. They didn’t have children, and  had never thought of adopting a child. They were content with each other, until one day Kartik upped and left.  What brings on this ache that is indefinable and persistent?

    The annoying thoughts didn’t go away, despite many sessions in Meditation. It had a calming effect for some time, but there were moments of private anguish that rose from within and were difficult to quell. One had to make a great effort to shake them off.

Come photo-op time, all the senior residents were prepped to dress up and flash a toothy smile for the camera. It was as false as it was overdone. The pictures looked more like the commercial ads for Diwali, weddings, festivals, dental hygiene and themes like that. The Management always briefed them before the photo sessions, asked them to look not just happy, but ecstatic so that it would match the name ‘Ananda’. They’ve to convey that they found a haven, a tranquil retreat in Ananda. They had to show  that they were building a new family, opening a new chapter in life that had serenity, safety and togetherness bonding with fellow seniors. The message should reach other prosperous seniors who lived alone and convince them that it was a wise investment.

                          ***

Kausalya lifted the suitcase from the bed and placed it on the ground close to a wall. She got dressed to leave for the Missionaries for Charity. The car she had booked for came, punctual as ever. The Ananda driver helped Kausalya keep her                                                       small suitcase in the boot, noted the address of the Charity and drove out of the gate. She missed her days of driving. It felt so liberating to get behind the wheel of  one’s car and go wherever one wants to, without a driver. Well…nothing is forever. In Ananda, conditions apply. Personal cars were not allowed. It had its own fleet of cars.

They drove past the familiar roads and tree-lined avenues. The last time she went to this Charity was a few years back when she donated another set of sarees and suits along with table and bed linen. The managers of the Charity looked especially pleased with the table linen that looked fresh and almost new. Maybe they used it now for their office spaces.

The driver pulled up at the entrance. He got the suitcase from the boot and followed Kausalya to the office of the Charity. Two women officers greeted her with folded hands and a smile, asked her if she would like some tea. Kausalya accepted gratefully.

“We’ll take you to the women’s wing that has senior women along with a few younger ones. We’ve a separate area for young girls,” said one of them, pressing the brass bell on her desk.

“I think it’s a good idea too. Young girls need different clothes, more suitable for their age,” said Kausalya, sipping her tea.

“Exactly. We’re fortunate to get some good donations for them – skirts, dresses, trousers, jeans and Tee shirts. The girls were thrilled. Sanjay, take the suitcase and escort Madam to the women’s wing.”

Kausalya followed the man. They walked past the corridor to an area of open space, a large sunlit courtyard that had strings of clothes drying on the washing line on one side. On the other side was a smaller building with another office. The man took her inside, kept the suitcase down, asked her to be seated and left. Kausalya stood looking around. A few women were sweeping the corridor and the open courtyard. That done, they brought buckets of water, wipers and mops. A woman sat on a plastic chair at some distance, supervising their work. She looked vaguely familiar. Kausalya caught herself staring at the woman. She didn’t remember meeting her ever, and yet the woman looked familiar in some ways. She sat adjusting the pleats of her saree and then turned her head towards the small office.  When she noticed Kausalya standing near the office, she stood up uncertainly, her lips parted in a hesitant smile. Then she pressed her hands in a namaste and turned back to supervise the cleaning women.

A woman officer came out and greeted Kausalya with a namaste and asked her to come in. Then she summoned the woman who stood in the courtyard. She came in and touched Kausalya’s feet and then stood standing in a corner with a smile, while the officer got busy making a list of the contents of the suitcase.

“Kusum, take the suitcase and separate the sarees from the salwar suits. Madam, would you like to go along with her? It’s the adjacent room where we first sort out the clothes before keeping them inside,” said the officer.

Kausalya followed Kusum. Once inside, she was startled by the way the woman touched her feet again and said in Hindi, “Oh Madam. We’re so happy with the sarees and suits you gave us. They’re beautiful. You’re very generous, may God bless you…”

“Please don’t thank me. It’s a pleasure actually, to give my clothes to all of you.”

“See Madam, I’m wearing the nice saree you gave me the last time you came. I deliberately chose it because our Madam said that you’ll be coming and I’m to help you sort out the clothes. So, I wore this lovely saree especially in your honour,” said Kusum.

 So that’s why she looked so ‘familiar’! She was wearing her lavender coloured Chanderi saree that she had given along with other clothes the last time she came. Kausalya absorbed the sparkle in her eyes, the way her face was all lit up by the happiness of wearing a nice saree. It rubbed off on her. For a moment, that  unnameable thing that pressed down on her chest so oppressively, melted away.   Kausalya smiled at her.

“God bless you too.  Stay happy and make others also happy in this place,” she smiled and made her way back to the main office.

“Wait Madam. I’ll escort you to the main building,” said Kusum. She carried the empty suitcase and followed Kausalya to the main office. She bowed again with a namaste saying, “Stay well, Madam,” before she left the room.

‘Thanks very much Madam,’ said the senior officer of the Charity.

“It’s me who should thank you,” said Kausalya. “I feel so happy that my clothes have found a new set of women to wear them. I’ll spread the word around. Actually, many of my friends don’t even  know about your organisation.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! It’s very kind of you,” she said, giving Kausalya  her business card.

She followed her to the portico along with two others and waited till the driver brought the car. Kausalya got in and waved at them. As the car drove on, she felt that a great weight had slid down from her chest. It felt light and nice.

She recalled the last time her cousin’s wife had invited her over for Ashtami  puja during Navaratri. Kausalya had jumped at the chance and happily joined her in serving lunch and small gifts to the children of people who worked in her housing area as cooks, maids, drivers, security guards, gardeners and ‘presswalas’ who ironed their clothes. The children had turned up wearing their best clothes. The boys in clean, washed shirts, likewise the girls, who in addition wore trinkets. Kausalya joined her cousin in personally serving them the festive meal followed by a distribution of gifts – small bars of Cadbury’s chocolate that she had packed for them, along with picture books, coloring books, pencil-boxes to hold erasers and sharpeners, trinkets for the girls and many other things. The children gave the two women a hundred-watt smile that brightened the entire room. Voices of their chatter and laughter as they ate their meal filled the space and wrapped around the two women. It was happiness at its most pure and radiant that shone on the faces of the children. Kausalya chatted with some of the parents who came later to take their kids home.

They said they liked the schools they sent their children to, but the kids had difficulty with some disciplines for which they couldn’t afford to fix up tuitions for them. Kausalya made a mental note to bring up this suggestion in the next in-house meeting of Ananda. If a group of like-minded women and men would offer to give tuitions to the less privileged children at somebody’s home, or their own which was only partially rented out, it may help the children improve their grades.

Kausalya looked out of the window. The car was speeding through the broad roads and the tree-lined avenue. In about ten minutes they would reach Ananda.  On second thought, she would first talk to a few select residents to  find out if they liked her idea. After she ascertains that there would be enough residents who would like to help with the tuition-idea, she would then put forth this point in the next in-house meeting. That is how the Day Care Facility came about in Ananda. A group had got together some years back to propose the facility of Day-Care for seniors who still lived with their grown- up children who had to travel on work trips or vacations. Opening a Day Care Facility for them would not only help the families who were very worried about the safety of their parents, it would also help the  seniors to socialize with each other and play games or read books. The meeting recorded the ‘suggestion’ in the Minutes and it had eventually turned out to be a good investment for Ananda. After a few days, the management was earnestly working around the Day-Care for seniors.

If happiness has sounds, it would include the chatter of small kids who came eagerly for the Ashtami puja, their laughter ringing across the room. And if happiness has many hues, then lavender would certainly be one of them, like her   Chanderi saree now worn by Kusum with a bright smile.                                          ***

Ashtami: Is the eighth day of the Hindu lunar calendar. It is celebrated during the eighth day of Navaratri.

Navaratri: It is an annual Hindu festival observed for nine days in honour of goddess Durga.

rasam: A thin soup made with lentil, tomatoes, ginger and a special spicy powder.

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