MOTHER 

 

‘Dad… will you please get me a packet of ‘jail’ Chapatis* and chicken curry?’ my younger son started tampering my brain in the morning.

‘How do you come to know about that?’

‘Dad… I shared some from my classmate Arun yesterday… you know, his Dad is working there and their food is so delicious…’

The jail DGP (Director General of Police) who introduced a commercial catering unit that functions inside the jail complex is a true visionary. In order run it with minimum overheads, the inmates started growing almost every variety of vegetables as well as chicken for fresh meat in the jail compound. I tried to recollect various articles published on the same matter in several local and national dailies. 

*unleavened flatbread 

♥

It was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon. 

I parked my car (unfortunately, we fall under the same age group!) in front of Poojappura Central jail and started walking towards the outlet next to the main gate where fresh packets chapattis and chicken curry were sold.

I placed four packets in the rear seat and the car started speeding up. But, soon my eyes picked up a familiar figure walking ahead and I slowed down the vehicle. 

‘Hi Naren,’ I cried out while stopping the car next to him.

‘Hi, Premji… How come you are here?’

‘O! That’s a long story… now, get in please’

He was bit hesitant at first, and then he got in.

‘We haven’t met you, even at least once, in the past twelve or thirteen years!’ I told. ‘Where were you all these years?’

‘I was wandering here and there for a permanent job… Unfortunately, I am still in search of one… Will you please help me to find out a good job?’

‘Sure, my friend…Tell me, your field of expertise right now?’

‘Certainly, it’s not Chemistry… that we learned during our college life…’ 

‘Then?’

‘I love cooking,’ replied Naren calmly.

♥

I stopped the car beside Sulaiman Kakka’s restaurant, a place quite famous for non-vegetarian cuisine throughout the city.

‘Meals are over, Sir,’ Sulaiman Kakka, an old-man in his seventies, told us politely.

‘That’s no problem… Will you please get us some coffee?’

‘Oh, Sure’

Soon he came near us with two cups of steaming coffee.

‘Kakkaa… Why don’t you please join us?’ I asked him

‘Oh, sure,’ he pulled a chair beside us.

‘Kakkaa… Please meet Naren… he was my classmate… and now, he is in need of a job… you know, he is a wonderful cook.’

‘To be very frank, it’s quite difficult to get very good cooks now-a-days, Premji Sir…’

♥

Two weeks passed event-less.

‘Bappaa (Dad)… have you gone crazy?’ Al-Ameen, the one and only son of Sulaiman Kakka, started shouting in the evening as he had not been there in the city for the past two weeks. His chubby face was burning with anger.

‘Ameen, mind your words,’ said the old-man impatiently… ‘What’s your latest problem?’

‘I didn’t create anything new… See… Our hotel is a public place and how dare you appoint a murderer as our kitchen staff?’

‘Murderer? Who is that?’

‘Mr. Naren… He was appointed here as a cook on the very day he was released from the central jail… and that too after twelve long years for slaughtering a young boy… He should be fired right this moment,’ demanded the thirty five year old Al-Ameen loudly.

‘Ameen, I better close down this restaurant for ever than firing him,’ the old man replied stoically. 

‘Bappa, what do you mean? Are you out of your senses?’ Ameen cried out.

‘Ameen… no more talks on the same subject….’

♥

Sulaiman Kakka was a firm believer of Allah and he used to sell only fresh food. The sale of food was not a profession for him, but, it was an act of divinity… Hotel waiters were fed much earlier to the meal sessions starting from 1 pm to 3.30 pm. None should be hungry while they are in work, which was his governing principle! 

He walked into the kitchen closely followed by Naren. It was a very neat and tidy place.

‘You are going to prepare something for me… everything is here,’ the old man declared… ‘I will appoint you if and if you are up to my standards’ 

‘Surely…,’ replied Naren.

The imported razor sharp knife started dancing on the cutting board while he was chopping the big onions and capsicum. The old man watched every move of his carefully. Within half an hour, three different chicken items were tasted by the old man.

‘nhum… very delicious… I will reserve you for my elite customers,’ a pretty smile appeared on his face. 

‘Sir, shall we talk for some time in private?’ requested Naren.

♥

‘Boy, I haven’t asked anything about your family,’ said the old man.

‘Both my parents are not alive… and I don’t have any relatives or a home’

‘Is it so?’

‘And the most important thing is…,’ he stopped for a while. ‘I am just released from the central jail, today afternoon… Premji is still not aware of that… otherwise he wouldn't have taken me here’

‘Is that so?’ the old man stopped for a moment… ‘Why did you go to jail?’

‘It all happened some twelve years back…,’ Naren started unwinding his life painfully.

♥

It was nearing eight o'clock in the evening and fifty five year old Gopi Pillai was about to close his tailoring shop in that under-developed village.

‘Gopi Chettan, please design a shirt for me… you know… it’s… something like the one worn by Mel Gibson in ‘The Bounty’ movie…,’ Ramu, a local rich boy appeared from somewhere on an expensive motor bike told. He was doing an expensive diploma course in the city.

‘Who is Mel Gisbon?’ he asked innocently. ‘Son… I am just a local tailor… not a fashion designer’

‘O, that’s not a problem… I will get you some photographs from the internet,’ replied the boy, whose muscles were rock-hard as he used to spend hours in the health-club, while handing over an expensive piece of high quality imported silk cloth.

‘O.K… I will try my level best,’ assured the old man while taking basic measurements of his body. ‘Earlier, people used to stitch clothes suiting for their bodies… Now they suit their bodies for ready-made clothes!’ he told casually.

‘I will be back on Friday,’ informed Ramu while starting his bike. ‘Is that O.K?’

‘Today is… Tuesday… of course; you can collect it on Friday…’

The boy sped away while Naren got alighted from a local bus and started walking towards his father’s shop. 

‘How is your newly found job?’ asked Gopi Pillai

‘Not really bad, my Dad,’ replied Naren with immense hope and faith beneath his voice. Soon, he started examining the silk cloth spread on the long cutting table.

‘You know… I too have got a promotion…,’ the old man started laughing

‘What do you mean?’ Naren couldn't understand a thing.

‘I am now a fashion designer!’

♥

Ramu, who was on the way back home from the city, parked his expensive bike in front of the tailoring shop. His chubby cheeks turned red while trying out the newly stitched shirt as it was not up to his standards. He couldn't breathe properly as it was very tight at some points.

‘You have spoiled it,’ he cried out of uncontrollable anger.

‘Then, I will make it little bit loose,’ suggested Gopi Pillai politely.

‘Are you kidding me? The cloth itself was worth around Rs 2000/-,’ Ramu was getting angrier... ‘You have to pay the damages,’ 

‘That’s not possible… I warned you earlier that I am not a fashion designer…,’ resisted the tailor boldly.

‘You bastard… I know how to… ,’ Ramu started bashing the old man up and his helpless cries got buried in the noise of the last bus to that place.

‘Leave him I say,’ Naren cried out while running towards his father.

Ramu left the old man, in the middle who had already lost two or three of his frontal teeth, and started attacking Naren mercilessly. At last, Naren was forced to plunge a sharpened pair of scissors into his lower abdomen in-order to save his father. A single stab punctured his kidneys as well as the small intestine badly so that Ramu was forced to settle on the other world within a short span of ten minutes.

♥

The inmates of C-block of the Central jail were busy arranging a ‘welcome function’ for Naren as he was awarded with twelve years of sentence. ‘Nadayadi,’ they used to call it in the local language. It was some sort of a cruel ragging in which the older inmates used to bash up the newcomers mercilessly and even the wardens used to support them. It was some sort of a psychological as well as physical attack for supremacy. 

‘None of you will touch him,’ the toughest warden in the jail warned the inmates. ‘And if anyone dares to do so, I will break his legs forever,’

♥

Gopi Pillai expired immediately after Naren was sentenced for twelve long years and his destitute widow was forced to stay along with one of her closest relatives, another widow who was living all alone in a palatial building. Her children, living abroad, were absolutely happy as they got an 'unpaid' maid for at least twelve long years! 

Sad, we live in a world specially made for opportunists! 

♥

‘Naren, you are here for the past five years,’ the jail warden reminded him softly... ‘I came to know… that your Mom is not feeling well... You are now eligible for two weeks parole... Sure, I will recommend for you’

‘Thank you Sir,’ replied Naren.

♥

‘Stay there…,’ the aged widow shouted mercilessly. ‘You are not allowed to enter into my home, Mr.Naren...’ 

‘That's O.K...Madam… Will you please call my Mom?’ asked Naren as he hadn't met his mother, even at least once, in the past five years.

The old woman didn’t open her mouth as she was trembling with fear…

He sat on the garden chair, closed his eyes and waited for his mother. Soon, he was tightly hugged by a pair of feeble hands. 

‘Mom,’ Naren started crying watching her malnourished body. 

‘What happened to you Mom?’

‘Nothing…,’ she tried to wipe down his tears. 

None can wipe down a torrent! 

Unfortunately, they couldn't even speak another word throughout the whole night. Mosquitoes attacked them like fighter jets as they were forced to sleep inside of the open car shed. 

‘Will he murder me?’ the house owner also had a sleepless night as she was really afraid of the young man...

‘One woman is the biggest foe of another woman,’ Naren told himself while watching the moving shadows of the old woman walking inside the house quite impatiently. 

♥

‘Her uterus is in a very bad shape and she needs continuous medical care,’ a physician from the near-by hospital informed Naren... ‘We cannot remove it now as her health condition is very poor… She needs to take complete rest,’ he handed over a long prescription for expensive medicines. 

Naren couldn't control his tears as he was incapable of buying them to relieve her pains. The doctor didn’t care him at all as a sales representative was waiting outside impatiently.

Naren was away for the next few days in order to find some money to for her medicines.

♥

‘Medicines are of no use, my son,’ she kept the huge medicine packet aside... ‘How many more days are left for you?’

‘Six more days to go back... ‘

‘Naren, you must be beside me until you go back…,’ she pressed his hands tightly… ‘Promise me…’

‘Mom... I am not going back,’

‘What?’ the old woman was absolutely shocked.

‘How can I leave you alone like this without any care? Let's end this up Mom... Why should we live like this? Let's end it....,’ tears started rolling down from his eyes. She didn't reply anything... ‘Mom... do you have any unfulfilled wishes?’

‘Yes... You have to perform poojas (rituals) for the redemption of your father... And then we will follow him...,’ she said firmly.

♥

It was nearing six in the morning and Aluva Manalppuram (sand-bed in the banks of River Periyar near Aluva) remained almost empty. Naren took a quick dip in the fast-flowing river. 

‘Be careful... Naren,’ the old woman cried out… ‘She has got terrific undercurrents’

A Brahmin religious scholar performed the Hindu ritual named ‘Bali...,’

The wandering soul might be hungry… The closest relative had to feed them…

Naren placed the fresh plantain leaf containing rice balls at an empty spot and started clapping his hands. Stray crows, appeared from somewhere, and started fighting for the rice-balls kept on a plantain leaf... 

Crows... they represented the hungry soul of his father...

‘We shall stay here one more day.... I like to visit Aluva Shiva temple tomorrow,’ she told Naren. ‘I like to have ‘Nirmalya darshan...(visiting the temple in the early morning)’

‘As you wish, Mom,’ Naren told while settling back in the hotel room next to the river.

♥

Naren got up bit late in the morning and the bed next to him remained empty. 

‘Did you see my Mom?’ he asked the small boy who used sleep in the reception.

‘She might be there in the temple... I only opened the front door for her in the early morning.... 

♥

‘Kaakkaa… will you please read this?’ Naren tried to hand over a folded piece of paper, which had already started yellowing. ‘It was the last letter by my Mom’

♥

The old woman got up at around three o'clock in the morning. Naren was sleeping next to her like an innocent child. Poor woman started patting his curly hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. A cute smile appeared on his beautiful lips as if he was having a beautiful dream…

‘Dream for a bright future… my son…,’ she told while picking a fresh pair of clothes up from the cheap airbag. Later, she placed a folded piece of paper inside his already empty pocket. 

And the boy who had been sleeping on the hotel lobby opened the front door for her. He showed her the shortcut to the nearby river as she had to a holy dip before entering into the temple.

She kept her fresh cloths and sat, all alone, on the cement steps in the river-bank and closed her eyes as if she was immersed in a deep prayer. 

Later, stray dogs checked the strength of their teeth on her abandoned cloths.

♥

‘My dearest Naren…

Your Dad is alone… Let me join him… Let Him bless you for a fresh start of life… Never give up, my son… never… You are destined to live… You are destined to win… You are…

Bye my son… Bye forever…

Your loving Mom,’

Sulaiman Kakka folded the letter carefully as if he was handling a treasure. 

‘Inshah Allah! Only a true mother can write like this… ,’ the old man told while wiping away the tears rolling down from his weary eyes.... ‘Naren... my dear son... I am so unfortunate, that I do not have a son like you,’ the old man hugged him tightly…

 

Premji