CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Hindi word for year is saal.
Kishore’s Father was originally from a small village in Punjab. His Father (Kishore’s Grandfather) was the local bookkeeper and highly respected. He was a meticulous worker and made all of his calculations by hand on paper. As with any little country town, life in Punjab was far simpler than in the city. The village people were a close-knit community and the happy children glowed from a relaxed life of playing outside with sunshine on their cheeks.
People who left Punjab to move to a bigger town always referred to it affectionately as their native place. When they returned for a visit they enjoyed coming back home to their roots and catching up with family and friends which gave them a sense of belonging.
The property Chandra’s Father lived in had been passed down from generation to generation within the family. It was a big house made with bricks that had been formed out of mud and had stood the test of time. The furniture was sparse and the house had no electricity or running water.
Some years earlier, Chandra’s second eldest sister, Bhamini, had moved to New Zealand with her husband Harilal. His younger brother had moved to the city when he married, as had Chandra. Big cities provided people with far more work opportunities and greater chances of sending children to better quality schools.
Kalindi, the eldest child in the family, was the only sibling to remain in the Punjab family home. She shared the house with her husband, their three children and Kishore’s Grandparents. Kalindi was a stern woman, the hard life of being a farmer’s wife was etched on her face.
The family’s source of milk was from their cow, named Gauri, she lived in a little annex next to the house. Kalindi milked her daily. Her other chores included cooking, sweeping, collecting firewood, pulling water from the well and washing clothes in the river by beating them against the rocks.
Kishore’s Mother married his Father when she was just eighteen - Kishore arrived fourteen months later. When Kishore was three months old his parents travelled with him on a long and dusty six hour bus journey to the small village in Punjab. They had been asked to come and visit Kishore’s Grandfather who was terribly sick with pneumonia.
As Chandra and Roopa entered the house the mood was sombre. Chandra’s Mother eagerly took the sleeping baby Kishore from Roopa’s arms and the weary travelers slowly ambled into the next room to see Chandra’s ailing Father.
Kalindi watched as her Mother cuddled her baby Grandson. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, she saw a calm and peaceful look on her Mother’s face, at that moment Kalindi hatched a plan. When Chandra and Roopa returned from the other room with furrowed brows, Kalindi tentatively suggested when they leave they should let Kishore stay in Punjab with his Grandparents. She proposed the baby would be a distraction for his Grandmother and with his Grandfather being so ill he would be of comfort to him.
Against Roopa’s will, the decision was made that Kishore would stay. Roopa was only twenty years old and an obedient young Indian wife and as such extremely subservient. A young married woman did not speak against her husband’s decisions or her in-laws wants. She was taught from a very young age to do as she was told without comment.
Silent tears slipped down Roopa’s cheeks as she cuddled Kishore to say good-bye. She nuzzled her face to his chubby neck and deeply breathed in, determined to ingrain into her memory that unique baby smell of her son. Reluctantly, she handed him over to her Mother-in-law. She was upset but she was also proud her son would be of comfort to them. It would be discourteous for her to weep openly, after all her Father-in-law was awfully sick and it was only right to consider his feelings.
Chandra did not want to leave Kishore either but he was powerless. He could not challenge the wishes of his eldest sister or his Mother. He could not disrespect his dying Father nor could he argue with any of them. He was helpless knowing he was upsetting his wife by leaving their baby son behind. He instinctively knew he would never see his Father again but what about his first born son?
Chandra and Roopa’s hearts felt empty as they boarded the bus for the return journey to Delhi. Roopa sat heavily in a seat and looked down at her empty arms, her arms that had just one hour ago held her dear Kishore. Maternally, she smelt them, tears fell as she breathed in the lingering familiar baby aroma. She realised her chest was wet but it wasn’t from her tears. Her milk filled breasts were overflowing, more than ready to be suckled by her baby, the moisture seeping through her top. But, unknown to Roopa, baby Kishore was to never suckle from her again. She took a deep breath and adjusted her dupatta (shawl) to cover her chest, finding a corner of it to wipe her eyes. Chandra, sitting next to his wife had been watching her without comment, presently he took his neatly ironed handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his own eyes. The six hour return bus ride was a long, sad and mostly silent journey with Chandra and Roopa having little to say as they were both lost in their own thoughts. They were quietly wondering when they would see their little boy again.
This situation resulted in traumatic circumstances for Roopa. After all, she was a young teenage bride with an arranged marriage and a first time Mother. She had nurtured and bonded with her baby for three months and to have him taken away from her was tremendously upsetting. Financially, they were less well off as her husband was obliged to send some of his wages each month to Punjab to help with the care of his son.
Kishore ended up staying in the village for six years with his Grandmother. During this time his parents tried, money allowing, to visit as often as they could. Each time they came, Roopa’s sister-in-law kept a vigilant eye over Kishore. The family treasured the growing little boy and did not want him to go back with his Mother and Father. Kalindi by now had five children of her own but the relationship her Mother had with Kishore was extraordinary - none of her own children had created that unique bond with their Grandmother. After the passing of her husband, Kalindi’s Mother took solace in caring for Kishore, taking him under her wing. She cherished him dearly and in return he became especially close to her.
She was the only loving figure Kishore had ever known. She was always there for him, nurturing him, singing him sweet lullabies and looking out for him. It was Kishore’s Grandmother, not his Mother, who was the first to see him crawl, walk and speak his first words.
Finally when it was time for him to start school his parents were able to convince the family he should go back with them to Delhi.
Returning to his family home as the age of six, Kishore hardly knew his Mother or his family. He was sent to school with children he didn’t know. He found living in the big city was completely different to the untroubled life of the country. The simple ways of the village and the kindness his elderly Grandmother had showered upon him were now gone. Even his own brother and sister were strangers and his Mother had another baby on the way.
Kishore treasured the loving memories of the time he lived with his Grandmother. He missed snuggling next to her at night, feeling her protective hand on his shoulder and knowing he could always go to her for a cuddle when he felt sad or just wanted to be held. His Grandmother had been so devoted to him.
In years to come he often wondered if his desire to move to New Zealand was partly because he never felt like he belonged with his family as much as his brother and sisters did. He had not bonded with his parents for the first six years of his life and had always felt out of place.
Despite this, when Kishore finally came to understand the anguish his Mother had suffered when giving him up, he realised the importance of his relationship with her, he knew he must always show his love for her and felt a need to protect her.