Sunday, May 12, 2002		Life Ties

SUVIR was a lonely child who missed having a sibling to play with. He tried telling his parents how much he loved going to his friends’ houses where everyone had a kid brother or sister to keep them company while he had to depend on others to give him their time. But his parents laughed it off telling him they were his best friends. Besides, didn’t he have all those imported toys, video games and a retinue of uniformed servants to play with him? Suvir was never convinced. He still yearned to play marbles, hide n’ seek, mohalla cricket and antakshri with the others.

He remembered how he once took the liberty of inviting boys and girls who lived in the colony across to the screening of the latest film on the new DVD player his father had gifted him on his 13th birthday. His mother was shocked at the "ordinariness" of the children her precious son kept company with. How come no one had brought to her notice that it was these kids he was spending his evenings with. Her icy cold demeanour was not lost on the little guests. Though they did not say anything to Suvir, he sensed their discomfort. Seeing them shrivel on the English leather sofas, for an instant he hated his mother for standing there in her fancy western outfit, wearing that intimidating perfume, unfriendly 6" stilettos and a haughty disdainful look, looking a caricature straight out of a horror film. Much to everyone’s visible sigh of relief, she soon stomped out, sending the servant with a tray of goodies instead, though no one was really hungry. They had suddenly lost their appetite and interest in the film. Suvir tried inviting them over on many occasions but they always had an excuse. However, they did not mind his playing with them. Soon the ice melted and Suvir learnt his first lesson on doing the things he liked doing and taking a stand without creating a scene. When his mother demanded an explanation, rather than get agitated or sarcastic, he firmly and politely told her what he was doing with his spare time and who he was choosing to spend it with. There was no shame, embarrassment or guilt in the young lad’s eyes. Seeing the finality in his demeanour, his mother knew that somewhere something had snapped between them. There was a part of him she could never hope to reach and that the distance would only get wider with time.

Suvir’s closest friend in college was Allen. He was a Christian and his parents were music teachers in the city’s best convent school. The atmosphere in his house was always as if a party was on in full swing. The extended family had dozens of aunts, uncles and cousins who would drop in uninvited, take charge of the kitchen and make themselves comfortable. Without much of a fuss, cakes, sandwiches and fruit punches would appear with some generous soul pitching in. At the end of the noisy get- together, they would clear up the place so that Allen’s parent’s were not overburdened. There would be a lot of impromptu singing and dancing. Amidst all this bonhomie what was not lost on Suvir were the close family ties, the confidences they shared and the way they rallied around each other in moments of grief and pain. Just one phone call was enough and everyone would get together. The network as also the love that kept them together made him crave to be a part of such a family. This seemed so real unlike the cardboard cut out where everyone on the surface flashed brilliant smiles and gave each other perfumed hugs but were daggers drawn the moment their backs were turned.

When Suvir fell in love with Lara, one of Allen’s cousins he knew that this was one decision his parents were not going to take lying down. Yet, he was certain that he was doing the right thing. He hated his parents’ pretentious lifestyle, their made-up faces and their parroting of things that were considered socially appropriate. There was no spontaneity and warmth in their interactions. He had, on any number of occasion, been embarrassed by them. When he was younger, he used to cry into his pillow lulling himself to sleep, dreaming of a mother who was like other mums. How he loved seeing Raju’s or Monika’s mums who though they were portly and matronly in their ordinary sarees and salwar kameez, forking out an unending line up of aaloo ka paranthas for the famished friends of their children, were actually far more attractive and welcoming to his innocent eyes than his own mother who spent four hours in a gym, was obsessive about her diet, keeping all servants on tenterhooks and putting poor little Suvir on food which he didn’t find palatable in the least. He remembered how he loved going to the servant’s quarters and eating their food for he didn’t relish the Continental, Thai and other fashionable cuisines which were prepared in his household.

When his parents came to his school for the parent teacher meeting, they were more bothered about how they were looking, the kind of impression they were likely to make and the sort of feedback they expected from teachers. They rarely tried looking at what Suvir wanted. And when his teachers complained that he wasn’t paying attention in class or that he could do much better, they were hardly listening. They knew their son was eventually going to look after their business and school was just a place to be before they sent him on a fully paid education abroad so that his credentials were in place and he was ready to marry the girl they thought would be best for them.

Suvir actually wanted his parents to pull his ears, sit him down and ask him why his grades were slipping. Other so called "ordinary" mothers would spend hours with the teachers finding out why exactly their child’s performance had slipped and where he had lost marks. They scanned answer sheets and together with the child tried plugging loopholes. Seeing fathers and mothers accompany their children to meetings or seeing them watch their performances at the annual function with tears glistening in their eyes, hugging them and sharing a unique bond, he felt anguished at what they had and he didn’t. The times his father hugged him, Suvir instead of feeling comforted or loved felt choked and angry for it was always for effect. By virtue of being their son and legal heir, Suvir was an expensive showpiece for display.

Lara was neither strikingly beautiful nor did she come from a rich family. But he felt nice being with her. She was vivacious, outgoing, friendly and uncomplicated. For the first time in his life, he felt that this was the only person who could fill in the gaps he had in his mind and heart. She could complete him and be an extension to his self. She understood him and when he was with her, his laughter actually reached his eyes. Without having shared with her his painful childhood, he knew that she understood. For, Suvir, his parents sprawling legacy was not important. What mattered was the companionship of a person who loved him for what he was and who could help him come out of his self- imposed shell. The logical part of him knew that he was putting too much premium on a relationship that had only just begun. To expect Lara to be all of this was being unfair to her. But he knew that with her by his side he could take on the world and evolve into a whole person. The more he saw her the more convinced he became that in some magical way she would reach out to his parents too and make them shed their artificiality. But, for now all he wanted was to be allowed to have her by his side.