THE REFUGEE

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FOR: MAY 2014

THE REFUGEE

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1.

Ellie was no friend of mine to begin with. Nor was she a neighbor.

I knew little of her and she was not exactly a very outgoing soul who could open up her heart out to all. In fact, she was just the opposite.

When I first met her some months ago, I saw her as a lady in her seventies, old and feeble. She struck me as an unstable, apologetic character trying to move around like a shadow, carefully, out of everybody’s way. I found that strange and a bit pathetic. She certainly didn’t seem to be an enigmatic personality, nor did she exude any charismatic charm that made others revolve around her. Yet she was very special to all. 

I didn’t give her much thought till months later, when I caught myself thinking of her with a kind of pain that is dull and gnaws at your heart making you feel guilty.

I still remember the day I met Ellie for the first time.

I was running a little late and was sure to get a mouthful from Manisha, my friend. It was an important day for me. I was going to be ceremoniously inducted to the local chapter of an Indian organization, ‘Parampara’, in the Valley, courtesy Manisha. And I was late for that!!

.

As I struggled to nestle between cars parked in front of her condo, I saw Manisha cruising out looking cool in her jeans and a Moroccan top. She looked gorgeous as usual. Gliding down the paved pathway, she waved out to me. I noticed she hugged a gift-wrapped package and wondered if it was the custom to carry one to the meeting for the host. I had taken nothing!

“Terribly sorry!” I mumbled before Manisha or Mini, as she preferred to be called, could give me a mouthful. “Just got a call from Mom as I was stepping out of the house. You know how she is. It must be early morning there. She has this uncanny knack for choosing the wrong time to call.” I apologized.

“Come on, Geetu. Be glad that you have a mother who cares. She is perhaps worrying about you being alone in a faraway place on the other side of the globe. You should ask her to come and live here with you.” She chided. “And…. my dear, since when have you ever been on time?”

Mini  and I lived a few blocks apart but had no idea we existed till we met one day at the gas station on Towne Avenue. That was a little more than a year ago when I had just begun to get around in my little red Honda enjoying my new-found mobility. Living in a small university town, I had understood that it was an absolute must to have wheels in order to survive.

We had developed an instant rapport from the moment we started chatting. We found ourselves as part of the new generation of single Indian ‘working’ women in the US of A when most of them came to the country piggyback riding on their spouses. I liked Mini for her free spirit and boundless optimism. She filled my ‘down’ days, during and in-between semesters, with an upbeat enthusiasm that made life less lonesome and exciting in an otherwise sleepy little town.

I learnt that Mini was an orphan raised by a maternal uncle in Paanchkula, India, later palmed off to her husband to live in the land of plenty. It was certainly not a joy-ride for her to cope with responsibilities at her in-laws’ and her husband’s philandering. After a scathing battle over separation and divorce, she never considered going back home to India. Instead, she had vowed to battle it out on new grounds with sheer perseverance and grit. The day she earned her maiden name back, she bought herself a second-hand car and soon opened a small boutique at the city center with the money she got as ‘settlement’ from her estranged husband.

That was a couple of years before I met her. The boutique flourished and she managed to make a name for herself spreading good cheer. But born with a social conscience and to fill in a deep chasm somewhere inside, she plunged into doing some extraordinary work at an Old Age Home feeding old people and teaching them yoga. I had a hunch that it was her way of serving and caring for the Mom and Dad she never had.

My engagement with laborious teaching assignments at the local colleges gave me little time to enjoy life. Mini taught me to look around with new eyes. I admired her grit and determination to stay afloat in spite of all the difficult times she faced running a business alone.

In fact, we both felt fortunate to be young and in a land where women were free to live life as they deemed right without any undesirable pressure from society.

*************

 2.

Taking Highway 10 we drove towards the little town of Diamond Bar.

“I’m glad you’re not afraid of driving on the Freeway,” Mini remarked as I changed lanes to get away from a slow moving vehicle in front. " One really learns to be self -reliant out here. There's no room for parasites in American society. Even the elderly are not pampered like back home and they learn soon enough to be useful rather than be excess baggage in someone else’s life.”
"Except for some Mom-in-Laws like yours." I shot back back and winked..
"Ahh! Indian in-laws are a different breed and if they find a willing donkey like me they will ride rough shod over you. Am I glad to be out of that situation!"

I knew why she chose to make a comment like that. Thinking of the elderly in most households back home I remarked with caution,“But don't you think dutiful Indians look after the elderly in their old age, no matter where they are? Indians don’t really treat their old parents like excess baggage, do they?”

Mini frowned. Suddenly she fell into a reverie. With an audible sigh of resignation she just added rather solemnly, "You’d be surprised."

I didn’t argue any further and decided to draw the curtain on this argument over an unsavoury subject and changed the topic.

“So how do I look?” I gave a nervous laugh. “Am I appropriately dressed for the occasion?”

I was truly intrigued by the Culture club that Mini attended every month.

Finally I was going to be formally inducted to this prosperous circle of Indian expats in the area that engaged in celebrating Indian culture and heritage. They liked to call the society ‘Parampara’.

“Um-m! I guess so.” Mini eyed the crisp ‘salwar kameez’ suit that I was wearing and was amused.“You didn’t have to label yourself, you know.”

“No harm looking ‘desi’ going to a 'desi' gathereing.” I heaved a sigh of relief convinced that I looked okay.

“But who is that beautifully gift-wrapped package for?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the highway.

“Oh this?” Mini grinned. "I thought I’d take something small for Ellie.”

“Ellie? Who is Ellie?” I asked looking at the heavy Alta Dena truck in front of me  blocking my view of the freeway stretching out in front with cars speeding by.”I thought we were going to the Sharma’s.”

“Ellie is an elderly Indian lady.” Mini turned to look at me. “You’ll meet her today. I know you’ll like her.”  She said casually. "She had asked me last time where she could get some slippers to wear around the house from. I know she’d never be able to find one for herself in that goddamn town of hers. And she's not fortunate enough to be as mobile as some of us are.”

And so Mini found one and was taking a pair for this Ellie, her friend. I was impressed and smiled.

But that was Mini. Any excuse trying to make someone happy.

Before we knew it, we were in Diamond Bar and I had entered the cul-de-sac which ensconced Ravi and Beena Sharma’s town-house flanked by a few other opulent American homes.

********************

3

It was one of those seasonal gatherings at Ravi Sharma’s house in Diamond Bar following ‘Holi’ that had just been celebrated in India. A visiting Indian Professor, Dr Ramdayal Upadhyaya was to give a short lecture on ‘Rasa Leela’ and the significance of Holi that had shaped the Indian psyche over eons.

It was an informal gathering and we looked forward to a stimulating lecture and, of course, to the feast that was to follow.

At least, I did.

Ravi Sharma, a Cost Accountant by profession, was the Chapter Chief of ‘Parampara’ in the small town of Diamond Bar looking after its members in the area. Beena, his wife, was gracious and generous. In short, they were a cool couple with kids grown up enough to be independent and be out of the way, giving their ‘crazy parents’ enough time and space to engage in ‘heritage’ sipping social activities of their choice.

There were about fifteen people at the Sharma’s that evening. I looked around and planted myself in a sofa looking a tad apprehensive. Next to me sat an elderly lady. There was a quiet dignity about her. But I could tell she also looked a little nervous as she kept rubbing her hands together from time to time quite unnecessarily. I figured it was certainly a nervous disorder with her. She wore a plain white blouse and a white saree with a thin gold border. I thought she could be close to seventy in age and her hair was braided the old-fashioned way with flowers coiling the length of her hair. I wondered if she had strung the flowers together herself as I was yet to find any such thing around here. She had to be a new resident in the neighborhood and a new addition to the Society like me.

I mouthed a faint ‘namaste’ to the lady folding my hands. She returned the ‘namaste’ with a startled look that I found odd. She hesitated for a second and then moved to make more place for me next to her quite apologetically as if she had no right to share the couch with others.

“Hello, I’m Geeta.” I said smiling. “Geeta Bannerjee. My first time here. You must be new around here too, I guess.” I smiled to make her feel comfortable.

“Nice to meet you.” The lady said politely but almost inaudibly. “I am Elizabeth. Elizabeth Varghese.”

She definitely had a very heavy South Indian accent.

The lady hesitated for a while and then added hastily, “Actually, I come here quite often.” Her voice quivered a little. Then abruptly she fell silent with a nervous laugh.

It occurred to me that perhaps she was eager to talk but felt shy to continue.

 “That’s great.” I nodded. Trying to make her feel at ease I quickly added,

” So you beat me to it.” I noticed that her face broke into a smile that made her look almost divine.

In a moment she volunteered more information on her friendship with Beena trying to justify her presence at the gathering. “Beena invited me to come over to these meetings to meet more Indians, you know.” She said hesitantly.” Actually I have no friends. That’s why I like coming here.” She laughed -- almost looking embarrassed to be surrounded by such energetic young people in a crowd like that.

 “Well, I don’t know many people here either.”I said and shook hands with her.

“Ah! I see you two have met,”said Mini as she came out of the kitchen. I glared at her for leaving me alone and mouthed a question which she ignored with the wave of a hand.

“Ellie, this is my best friend, Geeta,” Mini said with a flourish.

She gave Ellie a hug and handed her the gift wrapped package.

“Here’s a pair of slippers for you. Now you can throw away the ones with the holes. Hope these fit.” She scowled. Ellie sat enchanted by her good fortune.

She looked embarrassed but like a child in glee. “You must tell me how much they cost.” Her voice was tremulous as she was overcome with emotion.

“Yeah,  sure. Later.” Mini quickly moved away to say hello to another friend entering the room. I knew she didn’t want to discuss money with Ellie at all.

Ellie and I chit-chatted for a few more minutes before the lecture started and soon we got really mesmerized by Dr Upadhyaya’s discourse on Rasa Leela and Holi.

Later, on the way back, Mini filled me in about Ellie. I learnt that her full name was Elizabeth Miriam Varghese and she came from a prosperous family in Ernakulam in sunny Kerala. ‘God’s own country’, as they liked to say. Here she was ‘Ellie’ to all, young and old. Gentle and caring, she was a storehouse of tales from yonder and very often women gathered around her to hear of folklores and mythical beings from the shores of India that they missed so much and they also looked forward to some good authentic South Indian recipes from her.

That night when I lay in bed thinking of the evening, I suddenly missed home especially my Mom. They seemed too far for comfort and I missed my Mom's fish curries.

*****************..

4.

At subsequent meetings, I realized that Ellie was the mother figure whom everybody gravitated towards for she touched all with acts of love and kindness. At meetings she would bring a boxful of sweet dishes made with grated coconut, nuts, raisins and milk—things that we had no time to make for ourselves. Sometimes she brought Kerala parathas that were soft and silky to have with hot and spicy chutney. We gorged on them. She carried the box like a treasure chest and loved to see us devour the contents in no time. The only time she would be generous with her smile was when we complimented her on her culinary skills. It gave her immense delight. I could see her eyes twinkle when we raved about the goodies. At other times Ellie sat there looking pensive with a look of mute resignation and listened to our discussions and nodding appropriately but seldom commented on anything. Sometimes this ‘resignation’ of hers haunted me!

 As for her family life I learnt little. I only knew that she lived with her son a couple of blocks away and had no plans of returning to India unlike most visiting Mom & Dads these days. Oddly enough, her son, married to an American, preferred to stay away from these 'desi' gatherings and was definitely not interested in anything to do with our culture. It was the kind of paranoia or complex that many of us develop having estranged ourselves from the umbilical cord -- our true cultural identity.     

*****************

5.

Diwali was round the corner and Mini and I got busy collecting articles and literature from local Indian members for the Annual magazine from the Society.

Ravi called for a special meeting just a month before Diwali to discuss our progress and final printing of the magazine. Not too many people attended the meeting that day. But Ellie was there, as usual hugging her box of goodies. 
That evening I made it a point to spend some time with Ellie and make her smile. I took my plate of sweets and moved to where she was sitting, reclining on a couch speaking to Mrs Parvati Ranganathan.

I took a spoonful and said, “How do you manage to get it so right every time, Ellie? M-m-m. It is so very delicious… My God, your family must be so lucky to have you make all this for them! They can have home food any time they want!” 
Ellie looked at me and started fidgeting around. She played with the end of her sari twirling and un-twirling it. There was neither surprise nor pride in her eyes but sadness that I could not comprehend.

“I am glad some people still enjoy my food.” She whispered at length. She looked wistful and a bit nostalgic.

“What do you mean?” I asked her innocently. Parvati and I exchanged glances.

“I will tell you one thing,” Ellie said looking at me, forcing a smile. “When I was in Kerala, people in the neighborhood used to request me to make special dishes for them on occasions. I enjoyed doing that.”

“I can see why!” I said smiling.

 “My son, Thomas, refused to eat food made by others. He would only eat food prepared by me.” Her voice quivered a little. "But now I cook just for myself. No one likes what I eat or cares whether I eat at all.” I thought she choked on the last few words and looked the other way. Parvati nodded with a knowing look.

 “I don’t understand.” I mumbled. I didn’t know what else to say.

Ellie fell silent for sometime, as though she was debating whether she should speak at all. Then, quite abruptly, she excused herself and got up to wash her hands.

When I caught up with Ellie soon after that, she gave me a faint smile. We moved to the porch.

“I know you won’t understand.” Ellie said with an air of despair. She turned around and saw me studying her face. I guess I had my brows badly knitted and was sure she was perhaps a little disturbed to find me trying to probe too much. She patted my hands. “You’re really curious, aren’t you? How long have you been here?” Ellie said at length.

“Why?  Seven years so far.” I said carefully.

“Look, only Beena knows the truth.” She paused for a while to collect her thoughts. “I think I’ll tell you today too.” She looked at me with burning eyes and then rolled on.

 “Everybody in Kerala thinks I am so happy to be living in America with my only son…. living in such comfort in the land of plenty!” She laughed and looked away. I detected a ring of pathos in what she said. “Actually, I have no place to go back to. I am nothing but a refugee here.” She sighed. “I have burnt all my bridges and the truth is -- I feel trapped out here. You all are young and, perhaps, won’t understand what it is to be in a place where you have no money of your own and no one to turn to.” Tears were welling up in her sunken eyes. She kept pulling at her fingers with an uncanny nervous energy.

I was listening with shocked concern. I did not want to interrupt. Ellie looked up at the sky and then at the tall trees that lay in the distance at the back of the house down the slope moving into a thick forest below. It was dark out there.

“Back home everybody encouraged me to come here. They were not to be blamed.” Ellie continued in her characteristic faltering manner. “I thought so too when my son came down to Ernakulam after his father passed away. That was twenty-two years after he had left India.”She rubbed her eyes with the back of her knuckles. 

“My husband had worked very hard to give him a good education and sent him off to the US to study Medicine. He did very well. We were very proud of him. I still am. But when he didn’t want to return to India to look after the family pharmaceutical business, my husband lost all interest to carry on with it. His health broke down.” Ellie stopped to gather her thoughts. Her breathing was getting too rapid. “Perhaps he knew more than I wanted to believe.”

I patted her hands resting on the handle of her chair. She had a dazed look in her eyes.

 “I told him not to worry.” Ellie continued. “We had our land and property to live comfortably for the rest of our lives. We had relatives and friends around and, as long as our son was happy doing what he was doing wherever he was, all was okay.” She took a deep breath and stared blankly at the space in front of her. I did not want to break her reverie.

Moments later she said, “Then Thomas married an American girl. Lovely girl but we knew chances of his returning home grew even dimmer.” She looked at me with colorless eyes. “We were happy for him. At least, somebody was there to look after him. He wouldn’t be alone. He’d eat well. When his children were born we were thrilled, even though we got to see them only in photos.” Ellie tugged at her ‘pallu’ and got up. She paced around a little and then rambled on.

“All was fine till I lost my husband. I was shattered and didn’t know what to do! By the time Thomas came down, all was over. There was a lot of paper work to be done which I knew nothing about. My husband died suddenly and I had never bothered to find out anything. I always thought I would go first. Oh, I wish I did! But God had other plans.” She covered her eyes with her hands and wept silently for awhile. The light in the porch was dim and the noise inside the living room was filtering out through the half shut glass doors. The forest down the slope was getting darker and ominous. There was a chill in the air. I thought we needed to go back inside, but didn’t press Ellie to break her flow.

I waited for her to take a break. Finally, when she spoke, she sounded agitated.

“When Thomas came down he was very annoyed with the mess we were in. I couldn’t understand his rage. He said he didn’t like to leave me alone and helpless. He said I should leave with him for the US immediately. But that was silly. I had so much to do still after the funeral services.” She laughed. “Then my friends told me that he was being really kind.” She was shaking her head without her knowledge going back in time. Then she looked up at me and added with a miserable look in her eyes.

” But I was confused and knew it was a very tough decision to make. He said that all I needed to do was to sell our property and bring the money with me to the US.”She took a deep breath and sighed.

” Later when I debated on the idea, it somehow made sense to me too. He promised to do his bit for me to get me American citizenship if only I joined him soon enough. Old people in the US get a lot of facilities, he said. For that I needed to be in the US …. to apply for a Green Card as a dependent and finally, Citizenship. I thought it was the best thing to do to be with my son in old age close to me. I wouldn’t have to stay alone in India and fret.” Ellie sounded despondent.

I could see she was upset to relive her agony and, perhaps, her disappointment too. I was listening and made no comments to interrupt her flow of thoughts.

“I told Thomas that I would think it over and I really thought it over.” Ellie continued. “I consulted my relatives. My friends and neighbors and everybody said I was so fortunate to have such a caring son, that I should not think twice about moving to America.

“Thomas had very little time to cover all the necessary legalities.The rest was covered by my lawyer. There was a good buyer he said and it took me a year to land here with everything I had. So here I am. That was six years ago." Ellie paused for a while to take a breath. "Do you think I made a mistake?”  She looked at me with vacant eyes.

In the dark I couldn’t really see her expression but I was sure her eyes had mock laughter in them. 
Then she put a hand on her chest and with a blank stare she whispered, “But I miss those coconut trees around my house….going to the small chapel close to where we lived…our friends, the smell of sea breeze all around, the waves and the sand and the smell of sea fish….” She shut her eyes reliving those blissful moments.

“What are you two doing here? I‘ve been looking for you?” Mini had a glass of Pepsi in her hand. Looking at her watch she took a gulp of it and said, “Should we make a move now, Geetu?”

I looked at Ellie. She was smiling but her eyes had grown moist. She looked away for a minute and then she lifted her hand to say ‘bye’ to us.
”Can we give you a ride back home?” I hesitated and asked Ellie.

“That won’t be necessary. I can walk back. It’s just two blocks away. Someone will walk me back, I’m sure.” Ellie sounded confident.

“No, you’re coming with us. It’s late and not a problem at all.” I said quite firmly. 
Ellie said nothing more when we drove her back home. She lived in a big house that looked prosperous. Her son must be doing pretty well, we thought.

“Boy, doesn’t she live in a fancy house!?” Mini said after we dropped Ellie off at the gate. “This makes me really proud to be an Indian. Indians in the US are indeed a flourishing breed. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, prosperous indeed,” I murmured. Mini looked at me raising her eyebrows.

“What’s that for? Suddenly we’re sarcastic.”

“What?” I asked hesitantly.

“That sarcasm in the way you said it!” Mini was a little surprised at my displeasure.

“Well, being prosperous doesn’t always make you humane and honest, does it?”

“Oh, so she told you about her son,” Mini looked straight ahead.

“Not much but the fact that Ellie is not quite happy with him.” I said.

“Neither am I,” Mini sounded somber.

***************

 5.

Diwali came and went as usual. The subscription to our magazine swelled. Thanks to Mini’s marketing skills!

By the end of the year, at a  Christmas party, we heard that Ellie was very unwell. She was taken to a hospital nearby going through a battery of tests.  Mini and I decided to go and pay her a visit. Beena was to be our escort.

At the Mount Sinai Hospital we found Ellie sharing a room with four other patients. She tried to sit up when she saw us. She looked alarmingly frail but surprisingly happy. Her eyes shone like tiny bulbs when she saw us and she could not stop smiling. She held our hands tight and wouldn’t let go.

“What is the matter with you, Ellie?” I said laughing. I handed her the book she had wanted to read once.

“Better get well fast. Who is going to make all those goodies for us at the meetings?” Mini pouted.

“Look, you have to join us for the picnic Ravi is organizing for us next weekend,” I said holding Ellie’s hand tight.

“I wish I could.” Ellie laughed. “The doctor has other plans. My surgery takes place on Thursday morning before that. I don’t think I can make it to the picnic this time.” She was actually laughing with a twinkle in her eyes.” But I certainly would have loved to.”

We saw Ellie’s son and daughter-in-law that evening too. Interestingly enough, the young lady didn’t look our way to greet us and her husband looked more arrogant and standoffish let alone be friendly. He seemed to be in a serious problem of an identity crisis -- caught between conflicting emotions of guilt and shame -- that made him look awfully defiant. He certainly looked disturbed and kept pacing around.

When we left the hospital with Beena none of us was thanked for paying Ellie a visit.

*********

6.

“I only hope she can pull through.” Beena said at length, while we drove back from the hospital.

“Why do you say that?” Mini was annoyed at such a pessimistic assumption.

“Ellie is dying girls. Her lungs are damaged. She’s unable to take the cold. Besides, she doesn’t have the will to live. I have never seen any woman being so hopeless and pathetic. She has just been withering away. That son of hers is a selfish monster. Do you know why he brought his mother to the US?”

“What do you mean?” I was perturbed. even though I had my suspicions.

“He needed her money, to be frank. I know it sounds bad but that’s just what it is. Not just that, if you ask me, most working couples need a nanny and a full time maid for their kids as well. Who could be better than your Mom to fit the bill? With high profile jobs her son and wife are both busy. In the meantime, who is going to look after the house, keep the food warm and the house clean?” Beena sounded furious and her voice rose a few decibels higher than usual.

“Did you know that her son took all her money and paid towards the house they live in? That’s her house too that they live in more than it’s his alone. Yet Ellie has not a penny to her name! She’s on social welfare finally. It’s her social security money that she has as her monthly allowance which she hands over to her own son for her lodging.” Beena was hissing with rage. “She is virtually staying as a PG with him. Can you think of this in India!” Beena was choking by now.

 
”Would you believe that the day her papers were done, it was vacation time for the family -- leaving the old lady to hold the fort all alone at home?” I had never seen Beena so irate.

“You’re kidding!” Mini was aghast.

 “Well, she was given a bag of groceries and left to fend for herself. An old lady who doesn’t know her way around town, not even where to go shopping for essentials out here, was to manage the house and keep the fires burning, isn’t that asking too much? No matter what you say, for most Indians language is a problem and more so with an American twang. Besides, the shopping malls are too far away and she has no transport to move around in.  She was totally at her wits end!” Beena threw her hands up in the air.

“I should know that.” I said feeling guilty. “No wonder when my mom came visiting me, she soon got tired of hanging around the house all by herself while I went to work. She didn’t’ say it in so many words, but I could feel she missed home and the family even though she loved her Big Macs, Burritos and steaks. She waited all day for me and had no one to even talk to.” I could feel my eyes smarting with guilt.

” No wonder she left for India sooner than she intended and I sulked making her feel guilty. I behaved so badly with her! Poor Maa.” I was filled with remorse.

“I still feel it’s possible to turn around when you are young and capable.” Beena added. "But for someone like Ellie, it’s nothing but misery and humiliation. Two long years Ellie was practically left alone during the day in that big house with nowhere to go, no one to talk to or with no company of any kind. Nobody had the time for her, neither in the family nor in the neighborhood. She was scared to step out of the house. She lived like a shadow afraid to make her presence known. She felt that her son and also the kids were embarrassed to be seen with her.” Beena wiped her eyes.

“It was by accident that I found her roaming the streets one day when she had locked herself out by mistake. There was nobody home to let her in. She didn’t know who to go for help. She was literally frightened to death.” Beena shook her head in exasperation.

“You mean to say she had no key to the house?” I asked.

“No. That’s the point. She lived like a prisoner in her own house and that son of hers made no arrangements for his own mother.” Beena fumed.

“Outrageous! I wonder how many parents enjoy that!” Mini said philosophically. But I could detect a note of sarcasm in her tone.

“Actually, the whole thing is strange,” she said.  “For Ellie it was a mistake to give up her familiar life back home to embrace a new lifestyle out here. Being uprooted from home especially at her age, with no emotional support, could make anyone miserable. I would feel robbed off my dignity as a human being, if you ask me.” Mini took a sip of the glass of Pepsi she still held in her hand.

“You should have seen her the day I took her to a shopping mall.” Beena smiled. “She was like a child! Thrilled just to be there but she had no money to buy even a hair-band that she needed. And she is too proud to ask her son for one. Mind you, her own money.That’s when she told me where her money went.” Beena took a deep breath.

We drove along quietly. No one said anything for some time until Beena broke the silence that was numbing our senses.

“Do you know that Ellie was sharing a room with her little grandson till he decided to throw a tantrum to have his old room back. He felt that his privacy was being invaded by some ‘old lady he could hardly relate to’.”

“He said that? “ I was horrified.

“His exact words,” said Beena.”Ellie didn't mind. She said she shouldn't complain when the child had never known his Grandma from the day he was born. She was practically a stranger to him when she came along. His father never made any attempt to bring them together either. So she decided to move downstairs to sleep on the pull- out couch in the den, that too when everybody had left the room late at night after their favourite TV shows…. after she had cleared the table, and helped her daughter-in-law do the dishes.” Beena cleaned her face with a tissue. There were tears streaming down her face. Perhaps she was also thinking of home and her parents left alone to fend for themselves back home. But the only consolation was that most Indians still enjoyed the support of an extended family.

“What did her son say to that ? Did he just watch his Mom break her back?” My voice rose.

"That was exactly my question to Ellie." Beena raised her eyebrows."Ellie said that she had no complaints against her daughter-in-law, who was after all from a different culture raised differently. But she was disappointed  in her own son." 

"If you ask me, it was nothing unusual. It was his idea of an ideal Indian mother, I guess! Mothers are to be self-effacing and self-sacrificing!” Mini quipped. “You just try to be useful around the house. Nothing wrong in that.” Her voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“Incidentally, the day she locked herself out, she got a shouting from her son for being incorrigibly careless.” Beena added. “Anyway, finally she demanded a key to the main door. Now she comes to our place when she pleases. At least, she doesn’t feel like a prisoner anymore. Of course, she as no illusions about her son  and doesn't feel the need to cover for him either.”

“Thank God for that! I would really call up the police and report the matter. Such torture is unthinkable. It’s illegal.” I said with conviction as I was getting increasingly quite knowledgeable about American ways and the social system, I thought . 

“But Ellie with her traditional values couldn’t and wouldn’t lodge a complaint against her own son.” Mini was quite vehement about it.”No mother would.”

“You know something? She saved her share of the milk and other things to bring those sweet dishes for us!” Beena’s said. “Poor old Ellie!”

“But why is she so sick?” Mini wanted to know desperately.

“Malnourished with old age complications.  She was not eating enough to live. Basically, there's no desire to live. She's quite frail, you see. She has a patch in her left lung. Her pancreas and liver are also packing up,” Beena said quietly.

Suddenly we didn’t feel like talking anymore. A thick aura of gloom descended upon us.

That night when we drove back to Pomona after dropping Beena home, Mini said she was going to take some anti-depressant and I thought it would be a good idea to take up yoga seriously to keep my body and mind in order. Ancient techniques work wonders. We both felt the need to move on undeterred.  But somehow we both feared being alone in old age and in a land that is not really our own. The thought was gnawing at me like a recurring nightmare. In the middle of that night, I suddenly sat up sweating. Finally, I sat down to write to my mom telling her that at the end of the semester, I was coming home.... that I was seriously homesick.

**********

7.

Ellie passed away smiling a week after that.

She died as a result of Pulmonary Embolism, the doctors said. 

Strangely enough, every time we visited Ellie in the hospital, she looked alive and radiant. As she was disintegrating on the inside, she seemed more and more cheerful and bright on the outside, as if she couldn't wait to end her life. She’d take deep breaths and talk of the tall coconut trees and the smell of the sea breeze back home. She talked of Christmas and Easter in Kochi, the colorful  'Star'  paper lanterns hanging at porches throwing spotted lights that danced on the walls. She talked of the taste of rose cookies, sea fish and Kerala coconuts filled with nectar.

She showed no signs of being afraid of her condition. She left knowing that at last she was going home to her husband, free from the cage she had walked into quite accidentally as a poor old ‘refugee’.

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Dola Dutta Roy

Calcutta        

posted : May 10, 2014