Sunday, January 13, 2002		Life Ties

Sons too can adopt a nurturing role
Taru Bahl

WHEN Manjeet brought home Liza, his girlfriend, his father, a wealthy Punjabi farmer, was aghast. The fact that his only son had decided to marry a girl of his choice and that too one who was a Christian from an ordinary background appalled him. Didn’t he have a right over him to take decisions for him — from his schooling to the kind of friends and families he interacted with?

Manjeet knew his father had a temper. He was capable of pulling out his licensed revolver, twirling his famous moustache and pulling the trigger, punishing him for superseding his authority. Yet, it was a question of his life and future. He had decided on Liza and Liza it would be— even if he had to die for it! Of course, nothing of the sort happened. Manjeet’s mother, Rani, prevailed over her husband and the lovers tied the knot.

On the surface, Rani seemed soft and loving. She was, however, mentally strong. She worked hard at striking deep meaningful bonds with the people around her. She knew her husband was demanding and difficult. People were intimidated by him and he invariably ruffled a few feathers when ever he spoke. She then had to mend fences. However, in her gentle and reassuring manner she had sobered him down considerably and put the household on an even keel. Liza became the daughter he always wanted but never had.

Liza too left no stone unturned to be the bahu they all wanted. She was a modern girl, brought up in an unconventional and independent way. It was not easy for her to settle down to marital bliss in a small town. Social interactions were limited and the men did nothing but drink, hunt and womanise. Unlike other wives, however, she was not prepared to accept a peripheral role, entertaining herself with kitty parties Nor could she see Manjeet drift aimlessly. He had nothing to do.

She took the decision to move to Chandigarh. It wasn’t easy mobilising support. She did not expect anyone to come and lay the foundation for her. She had to do everything herself. She made trips to the city, met people and, finalised schooling, accommodation and farm- related projects that Manjeet could get involved with. She then set about convincing her family to make the crucial decision on moving town. Gradually, every one rallied behind her.

They were now happy. Manjeet had found his calling and was one of the region’s most successful and dapper progressive farmers. Liza was a contented housewife. She was clear that her sole priority was to be a full- time mother, wife and daughter-in-law. Having a son and twin daughters were in any case more than a handful. Their house reverberated with the sights, sounds and smells of a vibrant and happy home. It was an ideal love story, one which had acquired a folktale flavour back in the village. And then tragedy struck. It took just the briefest of moments for everything to come crashing down.

It was the twins’ fifth birthday. They had planned a theme party and more than 100 guests had been invited. Manjeet had taken Liza for some last- minute shopping. After paying up at the departmental store and carrying half the packets, he told her to cross over to the other side of the road since the car was parked at a distance. As he waited for her to cross, a motorcycle drove straight into her. It was over before he could reach her. She lay still— beautiful even in death.

"Life," they told him, "must carry on". Other words of comfort and wisdom reverberated in his ears all the time. Yet, he found no solace. If she was dead, he was a living corpse. He refused to return to the village. He had to fulfill Liza’s dream and make sure that the children grew up to be responsible adults. Like Liza wanted them to.

Unable to bear the shock of Liza’s death and the complete sense of hopelessness which descended on their picture-perfect family, Manjeet’s father suffered a fatal cardiac arrest barely a year after the tragedy. Manjeet was now left with the option of either moving back to the village to look after his land and mother or to dispose off everything and bring her to live with him in Chandigarh. He chose to do the latter. Relatives did suggest re-marriage but he never agreed.

Rani then took control of the house. She wore different hats at different moments. She mothered Manjeet, played the role of official hostess when he entertained business clients, turned into a socialite to keep her sanity and to help him develop a social circle and was her grandchildren’s’ best friend. She went for their PTAs, annual functions and piano lessons. She organised jam sessions, shook a leg with their friends and was a favourite confidante. Gradually, a pattern fell into place. The household came to terms with its loss and learnt to smile and laugh again.

For 25 years, Rani kept at it uncomplainingly. She never complained of a headache or fever. The grand children were all married and settled. The great grand children arrived and she still had the energy to change their diapers and make her famous gajrelas. She had insisted that Manjeet take on a more supervisory role in his business and develop golf as a passion. She knew that after she was gone, it would help him stay grounded. She wanted to free him from the responsibility that she had now become. She was close to 90 but he insisted on being with her. His son was in Mumbai and was imploring them both to come and be with him but Manjeet knew that Rani’s heart was in Chandigarh.

Manjeet and Rani were a unique mother-son duo whom the city had seen and grown to love. It was not an uncommon sight to see Manjeet take Rani for a walk along the lake or for a dosa lunch at the latest South Indian eatery or to British Council to catch up on the latest British journals. He would take her for concerts and exhibitions even if her eyesight and hearing power were failing her. At 70, Manjeet had enough health problems of his own but he did not allow that to come in the way of his nursing and caring for his mother. If Liza had taught him how to love, his mother had shown him how to nurture and honour loving relationships through an entire lifetime. Having learnt that, how could he desert her now when she, perhaps, needed him the most ?