Sunday, February 23, 2003		Life Ties

Going wherever life takes you
Taru Bahl

THE Wadhwas were an old family from Chandigarh. Abhay was an architect with the state government and had, post-retirement, busied himself with consultancy assignments. An avid golfer and car rallyist, he was happy to be close to the hills. Dapper and well-groomed, he looked much younger than his 60 years. His son and daughter were happily married. While the daughter had migrated to Australia, his son had set up a food and catering business in Chandigarh itself. Like most of his friends who constantly hounded their children on what to do, especially pushing their sons to pursue medicine, engineering or management he empowered them to take their own decisions and always respected their choices.

After losing his wife a few years ago to cancer, Abhay had cut down on his socialising. Thanks to his other interests, he still led a full life. His presence in the household was never an intrusion. His personal habits were impeccable and he rarely interfered. Though his son and daughter-in-law lived with him, there was a comfortable camaraderie that existed, combining just the right mix of warmth and formality.

It was bad days for business all over, his son’s being no exception. In spite of hard work and sufficient orders, he was still not making money. The gestation period was long over and he was being forced to look at the option of shutting shop. When a job offer came from a five star hotel to join them as a chef, he decided to take it up. The temptation of having a secure job and one which was paying handsomely was any day better than suffering the tensions of running your own enterprise in a market which was cash-strapped. The family had never moved out of Chandigarh. Initially there was resistance to the idea of relocation but finally the odds tilted in Delhi’s favour. Children’s admissions were secured, a buyer sought for the catering business which was being wrapped up and a reliable tenant found for the old ancestral home. The Wadhwas new residence was in DLF, Gurgaon, a locality teeming with activity residential complex developed along modern lines.

The children settled down quickly to their new school and to a host of activities like tennis, swimming, squash and dance all of which existed within the compound. Completely self sufficient, community initiatives made living comfortable and interesting. The serenity of Chandigarh was gone but the exposure and learning that came from adapting to the demands of a bustling metropolis was something that they all felt was needed at that stage of their lives.

Besides, Abhay by nature was an extremely adjusting person. He could adapt to all circumstances. His mind and body simply draped itself elegantly to any situation, making the most of it. Perhaps this was one reason why he looked so calm and serene. His facial lines were smooth and his body had a graceful fluidity which had a lot to do with his mental state of being.

Festival times acquired a special sheen. For, Delhi was a melting pot of so many different cultures, communities and people. In its diversity and mish-mash itself there was a character and uniqueness which was infectious. Community initiatives in the residential block like Divali, Lohri, Holi and Christmas became collective celebratory events as meetings were held and the elected President of the housing society held forth on his plans, making sure that the idiom "more for less" was practiced in toto. So for a token contribution from housing society members, efforts were made to give as much back in return. Families looked forward to these cost-effective celebrations. It gave an opportunity to a Punjabi to partake in Onam festivities and an Assamese to drench himself in Holi colours bringing people closer, providing the cushioning which perhaps their nuclear families were no longer providing.

Visiting friends from Chandigarh often commented on the huge difference in the lifestyle and rhythm of the two cities. Surely the Wadhwas must have had teething troubles ? It must not be a nice feeling to have compromised on practically everything, right from the pollution filled air to the traffic jams, increasing lawlessness which makes senior citizens particularly vulnerable and having to live in a matchbox flat as compared to the sprawling bungalow back home? Abhay would be surprised at such odious comparisons. He had not looked at the situation from that angle at all. Of course modifications had to be made like leaving home with a cushioning of an hour if one had to meet someone, building in the possibility of getting stuck on the highway or investing in state-of-the-art security technology to protect oneself from any unwarranted break-ins. But they had quite enjoyed the process of settling down to their new lifestyle. In fact his children and grand children too had inherited an adventurous spirit from him, which seemed to tempt situations by silently saying, "come, lets see how difficult can you make things for us. We are like that frog in the curd, always finding a way to stay on top."

Recounting the inspirational story, Abhay told one of his old friends about these frogs who accidentally fell into two different barrels of milk. At the end of the journey when the milkman emptied out the contents he found a dead frog in one and a beaming one in another. While the first one had numbed his senses with the shock of descending into something that was totally alien, reconciling to his sinking and making his case for death by drowning easier, the other frog had refused to give up. So what if he didn’t know how to swim. He kept flailing his arms and doing all kinds of acrobatics to stay afloat and at the end of the journey he managed to convert the liquid milk into a curdled mass of churned butter, making a neat mountain on top of which to perch himself." For Abhay, the day he realised that change was the only constant in life and that his children had that unique ability to battle circumstances – enjoy the good times and triumph over the bad times was when he knew that as a parent he had fulfilled his duty.

After spending two years at the hotel, Abhay’s son was once again beginning to get restless. He was stagnating, the food industry had picked up and there was huge opportunity overseas. He applied to New Zealand and managed to get visas for the family. He planned to go and set up an eatery there. When Abhay told them to go ahead with their plans they were slightly taken aback at his desire to stay back in Delhi. At 67, Abhay neither wanted to intrude in his children’s life beyond a point nor did he want to get tied down permanently. His motor rallyist friends were in Delhi, besides he still saw ten active working years ahead of him. After some thinking, Abhay shared his plans with the worried son. He decided to pay up a lifetime fee to one of Delhi’s best old age homes. This would free him of the botheration of running a household, besides he would have company and freedom. He would spend six months in India and the balance time divide between Australia and New Zealand. His children were slightly worried and anxious with this proposition but had faith in their father. He was an amazing man and they wished him good health. In a gentle, non-intrusive way he had given them so much – the freedom to make choices, the grace to adapt to change, however ugly and uncertain it may be and to give every situation their best shot. In his life there was no time or desire to indulge in recrimination, guilt, ifs and buts. Maybe his sporting temperament had something to do with it. An old age home was not such a pleasant idea, more so since it still implied being forgotten and uncared for, they decided to play along, for now and wish him the best.