Before Ratilal opened the last letter of his father his hands stopped. Hands became numb almost. It was the harvest time and the father had finally walked to the final destination. He had passed away. The news reached late. The funeral and other rituals had already been over and then the news came. However the father and the son since the last decade didn’t speak to each other. The things before this, was also different. Their ego, and bitter words stopped them seeing each other.
The morning sun spread brightness on the garden lawn. Wild mehandi shrub fence grew well and floral saplings on them with the fading of the season have started weathering. The monsoon grown fungi on the houses opposite to ours have turned black and began to fall.
Since last couple of days his wife Revti has started cleaning the home as Diwali was nearing. Because of this the things were scattered all over and Ratilal too lost his soul seeing all things, as if his own soul was scattered into pieces.
Again Ratilal’s heart ached as he began to open the father’s last letter sent with his brother in law. Stealthily he wished to enter into his room to shed all the tears that he had welled up till now. Though it was very difficult to control his self, he tried and remained seated. He couldn’t go in. In his chair under a wall side Parijat tree of his small bungalow he is seated with the letter in his hands. Things to do and lots of other issues rose before him and that made him stronger. He made up mind to stand the things. Written by the father it was a long letter on an old and lined yellow turned page. At the age of eighty, with the shaking hands, and dim eyes what did he wish to write? Why did he take trouble? He thought all this and finally opened the letter as if placing luggage on a horse for a journey to begin. He prepared himself and began to read:
“The resident of Rajpura village, dear Ratilal, daughter in law Revati and grown up children. From the village Kothaliya, remembering you on for a special reason, I, the father of you Lavji Kodar for the last time greet you with all my heart. We all fine here and pray to the Lord of Gokul that you too all remain heal and healthy. May the King of Dwarika bless you long life and make you prosperous. Such are my blessings to you.
Neither have I good pen nor a paper and bedimmed eyes make it difficult to write. Tears dropping and wiping them constantly makes not the trouble less. Add to it is the trouble of my shaking hands.... But do have I to write more now onwards in my life? Any time on a fine day I would be gone. It’s as much fixed as the coming of days and night. For many years over I have written letters and gave resect to you like an elderly person. Never called you ‘Ratilal’. But today is the last time that I wish to call you with your name. It pains me to arrange the letters and words. Bear me if my spoken and written words mix up in my language. You know I was to get a teachers job when I completed fourth standard during the State administration. Right at that time my elder brother passed away and I had to join with my old father and help in farming and tilling. I had to leave everything for the labour on the farm. Had it been not so, your brought up and everyone’s future might have been different altogether. You wouldn’t have complaints for me. But the lines in our hands aren’t controlled by us. Future is in His hands. It is already prepared by Him and we have to pass through accordingly. Had I been a teacher, I might have been an education officer. But things were destined differently so what can we expect? Dear Ratibhai let me tell you I don’t have any grudges of them. I worked hard, ministered work and whatever I got I shared. You always felt I took lot of benefits from you. I never considered you like a mango laden tree that always bears stones. You never ever will understand the heart of your father.
On month ends I wrote letters to you. It may be so that while demanding money from you I might have missed to keep in mind your family but here was the condition to save the lot. I was one and many were the family members. I had to save honour of our family. The whole community of ours always looked at us. In ups and downs I had to be everywhere with them. I had no ways as I was tied to duties. When a son is well settled in a city none in the village in my troubles came to me for a help. They thought I had lot of money sent by you. I demanded, though you yourself were in trouble. But you don’t know these people. They come for their loan money to us and many others to borrow. Tell me should I expose myself? Random is the income source and so small piece of land to till! House to on road accessible for all and big is the family to care. Day and night I strove and wandered. And that made me bitter. That affected my nature. Often have I omitted rash words and then I regretted for the same. But you know nothing. Your mother’s illness and expenses of your siblings! Had I my put my mind and heart at ease with you, then I might not have put this utter pain towards the end of my life. But we can’t alter our destiny. We have to face the life according to His will. Nothing I take at my heart when someone considers me a rigid and stubborn but...Let it go... I’m not as they think. I too have heart and feelings. These your siblings, eventhough they live with me, consider it to be grateful in giving me food and shelter. They think I am hard and vainglorious. Whatever they have offered, offered with bitter insult, I’ve eaten, rather swallowed up. Can’t bear all this now. There’s no end of my troubles. The only solution is departure from this life. You take me to crematorium and that’s all. There’s nothing in life to lead. I only wish when I die you come for the last rituals. Be present on the occasion. That would repair all my loss. I say to you come when I die. It would stich my torn soul. Say at my burning pyre: O wondering soul, go back to Him. Go away here I burn the body. To listen to such words from you my soul must be hovering there. So don’t miss...
Ratila’s throat chocked up.
None saw him... He wiped eyes and cleared throat. A rift between them. Father on one side and he on the other. His troubles and... what not? Things in the letter said something and things he watched revealed other things. Then the father was not the same as he always watched him? O, once an opinion settled for him never I changed? Never I thought it was right or wrong? For him everyone had only one opinion, and I too believed the same. Never tried to see the other side. Once, on a summer, he had been to his village...
The father had sold some of the smaller golden jewellery articles for the engagement of grandchildren. He had hurriedly arranged everything. For this he wanted to say something but the father sensed it and for a couple of days kept himself away. He kept himself busy in trivial works and avoided eye contacts. When Ratilal came again to his village, Ratilal himself avoided the father. The father wanted to talk. He moved around him but Ratilal ignored him. He wanted a chance but Ratilal gave none. Ratilal too felt strange. He felt lonely amongst his own family members. On that day loneliness thickened beyond expectation. From somewhere a white pigeon landed suddenly. It looked very strange into the lot. As it came, why the others moved away from him? The white one tried to match with them but none liked it. The bird was with all, in the company of his own lot, and yet so lonely? Why? Why this? He saw there, in the compound an old bull. It was passing his retirement. The other cattle went to field and he was left behind. He would be lonely, and lowed loudly. After sometime became still and sat down. Moved jaws in chewing as if reconciling to himself. Father remained seated silently on the cot at the opposite house wall and he had left to pick up a bus. He had moved a bit, made a show of getting up and come to bid good bye but remained seated. His painful face and sordid loneliness hadcome before Ratilal all along the way. Again those sad moments returned today as he read the letter. He continued reading:
‘.........though at the last, I don’t consider it right to clarify but the mind doesn’t agree. It’s greedy to tell. You are wiser than me and more over a big head in the city. I’ll put two or three things and be at ease. But I know in doing so things would reverse. It will be a heavy burden. But when I decided to open my heart let it be so. As you were bright, I too wished you study well and become a great man, but I had no strength to bear the burden. Socially and financially troubled, when I suggested you to go for PTC, I had at my back of my mind wished to utilise your wisdom for our house. You possessed the abilities to cop up the troublesome lot. When there are spoilers in the village – as the elder one being so simple, can’t expect anything from him – I thought your becoming a teacher would help my condition and reputation of the family. But His is final will, as he wished things happened. Certain things became inevitable. You told your aunt –my sister, that you cater a grudge against me. It was my utmost wish to bid farewell you when you started for your first ever service. Had no money at that time. Could have been borrowed. But I had faith in you. I knew your strong character. You adjusted yourself in the city without our help. You will stand against any odd. And so I didn’t go with you though I wished it. How can I forget that dawn when you all alone had to leave the house? Even today I don’t have to think so much about you as I have to for the others at home. The young one that leaves the nest earliest, builds the nest earliest too. You won’t believe, like you I too considered myself all alone and helpless traveller. I too remained deprived in need. The kith and kin heaped trouble all the time for us and laid themselves in luxuries. I swear my eyes too filled. Felt strangled. Found breathless often. Especially on the festivals and occasions, I felt helpless. Without money you, your brothers and sisters were joyless. Such times have tested me. Tested and broken me. But Ratibhai a mighty always stitches wounds. Like a mad one I made attempts to push horrible things. And such things made me bitter. My wrath against situations helped my works done.
The most hostile I had been to your mother. Almost an enemy to her. She never had chances of happiness as she was pressed under terrible workload. Moreover her diabetes. He misery expanded by my harsh attitude. Hardly have I remembered to offer her a glass of water. Not her curse can be upon me but behind such a condition of mine certainly those things must have contributed. But it is the truth that for me never I thought of. Everything I did to carry on the life. Your aunt said of me that I never turned sweet even at the ripe age. I know it but how can it be so? A bitter fruit too lashed by rain and cold wind. A favourable condition may improve it a bit. I wish we all come together and have a pleasant time. Let’s laugh and be happy. But you know the tongues of your sisters in law. As if they carried bitterness from their parents’ home. Reluctant to serve two meals too. A man having of two million property has too see such days! O God never bring such a time to my enemies.”
Ratilal stopped again.
The time’s up. It’s hot now. Revati made a mess of the belongings. It laid in the garden, and the compound. She got usied a maid and two other servants for the cleaning. She says, ‘This time old, useless things would go. Will be either dispatched to recycled stores or put to fire. Everything should look neat and tidy. No more things than requirements. This old wooden store-case and such things – what we do with them? Quite useless. Love for the bygone things not good. The time’s gone when old things came to help in sorest need. Now buy things, use them and finally dispatch them. That’s all.’
For a while Ratilal saw his scattered belongings. He was puzzled. Till today everything he planned turned successful. No alteration came to his plans. And now his wife? Doing something against his will? Or was there something related to the father? The father rose from his within. Father – Lavaji Kodar. Everyone since last two decades called him the Old. Ratilal today couldn’t bear the word ’Old’ for the father. Old? Not even Grandpa? He felt his breath strangled. Now sunlight fell upon his chair. He moved under the Parijat tree. He saw that some flowers there on the tree didn’t go dry.
He remembered the Lavaniya Hills. At the foot of it was a Parijat thicket. After Diwali the father and the elder brother brought bundles of very thin twigs and branches. They are elastic. They made various types of mats. People called this tree as a ‘Weaver’. Later on Ratilal came to know that the ‘Weaver’ is nothing else but the Parijat tree. Amongst insensible people, who knew not that Parijat is a holy tree, the father spent whole his life. How regretful it is! Now a crow sat on a compound wall. The days of paternal rituals and offering are over. And this Girnari crow came for offerings? Ratilal gazed at it. It’s looking at him as if demanding the father’s offering. The naughty one’s not moving at all.
Ratilal continued reading:
“I remember it well. I couldn’t give you money during your college years. When none helped you, you went to Manek uncle who never refused you. I borrowed from our relatives to maintain our social practices. And the loans I paid by selling milking buffaloes. You came once in your illness but I had turned you back. You returned broken hearted, I know. But what can I do? I was helpless. Coming to the point, you sold newspapers and paid tuition fees while I sold bamboos and grass and adjusted everything. You had afternoon tea from your friend at least. I missed that too. I went to load trucks. For a couple of days ate almost nothing and survived. Without food the stomach revolted. Pain grew. To relieve rolled myself on the floors but the gas won’t go soon. Ultimately baked onion and garlic helped. Where was the money even to buy poison? I took tobacco that helped cure my pain. But the very thing turned devilish and thinned my body. Got off finally from it but it gave way to rheumatism. But now the life much passed and less remained. What to tell you? And what not to? Are we to go to the king and complaint? And I also know how the kings are!
But my eyes flood like the Mother Mahi River when I write one thing for you. For a while I think I shouldn’t. You may have known. You know our community and its customs. I became a widower in my forties. I was on the half way and your mother departed. Left me alone. Not afore not back. Stranded at the middle of life. Toiling to tears and tilling to torn. Making mockery of me. Had to face the narrow minded community. Many told me for the remarriage. Some invitations too came for it but I saw gloomy faces of you and your sibling. I held myself together but I reaped huge stock of troubles. But because of my sacrifice you could become a man of society. What did I get in turn? Would you take it strange if I ask what did I gain? When it’s getting tough, tough gets going. Well, nothing I want. But I don’t deserve insults, do I? Rather than rewards everyone looks at you like a criminal. I possess property of millions and yet I have to lick the dust. For food too I have been pushed out from this home to that home of your brothers. They had been married to cultured families but the wives turned out hopeless. Who to blame? It’s my fate, I take it. The sweet climbers also bore sore fruits. O God!
Being an old, I became angry often. Can’t tolerate anything wrong. Can’t control myself when things go wrong. Age ripened but my nature not changed. What could I do? A decade passed by. You have been separated. Though my dreams about them shattered, I wished welfare of all the three brothers.
One more thing.
I know you didn’t like we shifted to new house. The old one shattered to pieces. I felt heavy when I myself had to break it down. I thought happiness of the new generation. At the old house river floods always threatened. After the Kadana Dam was built I was much frightened. The Morbi Dam tragedy came to my mind. A well settled city was lost and here was a small village. Can it be long to merge into the flood water? The new premise is well accessible. Today the new house is on a hillock. A canal passes from nearby. Cross roads are near as well. Seeing all happy no fear dwells in me. I was heartbroken when I saw neem trees –like your veins – nurtured by you- cut down before my eyes. When there’s no money on hand what pain should I ponder? I arranged for you. Your brothers will share crop and such things. You will have your part. They don’t have anything against you in their mind right now, but don’t know tomorrow. It’s modern time, anything can happen.
Last thing.
With the clear conscience I have lived.
No harm have I done to anyone. Never favoured to wrong side. Wherever justice was I stood there. Held head high by honouring guests and earned reputation through social practices of our community. Fed the unknown travellers. Not only protected the properties handed by the forefathers but could add somewhat in it. Has extended family. What else do I need? Present miserable condition of mine is nothing but may be my destiny. These younger ones can’t raise their standard so much. They match the society only. You approved your elder son’s marriage into the other community...but according to the need of time one has to...You visited a family for your engagement. Without any information to us. I was against it. My wrath you must be knowing. Though I didn’t like it, I got you married where you wished. You liked Revti. If I tell you the truth she was the woman who understood me. I could be at ease with her. Whatever time she spent over in her stay here, I had never to complain anything of her. But I can’t adjust myself in the city and we both stand on the opposite sides. Never coming to peace. Never buried hatchets. She was worth of a great treasure but I had to bear these knave wives of your brothers. Your family is mighty to make a way on the hillocks. So didn’t bother much about you. But the son of Lavji Kodar marry out of community was to remain a censure issue. It touches me too. But time’s changed and the generation reared up in the cities will find it difficult to match in the villages. I know it pretty well. But I was in between the people who hold two sided blade. Move any side cut you get. Many are the people who favour the wind. These village people are no doubt rigid and mean minded. Coarse is their meal, coarse is their dress, and coarse is their tongue. If you want to live happily never turn to this side. Your welfare lies in forgetting this land. Here are the so called educated people but are low to the earlier generation. I regret of only one thing. Though you didn’t wish, had you at least arranged in your father and forefather’s village, any of your family occasion and fed the community you should have earned a great reputation. Now I don’t care for the community. Everyone knows what Ratilal did was not wrong but the community too want to survive and so they have their scales. We want to see tomorrow, so consider gone by as gone by. If we continue to talk there won’t be end. This is only a little scribbling and take at as so much. And yes, Ratibhai, don’t forget to take care of your brothers. Whatever you can do, do. My Lord Rama will return you in many folds. If we are unable to meet while we breathe, come to bid farewell on my death. You support my effigy up to the crematorium. I would be waiting till they put fire to my feet. Signed by myself, here, I am Lavji Kodar...”
Ratilal made a great effort to support himself. Which fellow was this Lavji Kodar? He wished to lash himself. Eyes turned a dry well. He was heedless and the belongings were again arranged on the home. In a compound corner pieces of papers and other waste was burning. The evening was getting dark. Ratilal moved to the corner where the wastage was burning. He felt as if somebody led him. Things were burning. He bent down. As if somebody handed him he held a burning twig. Was he taking rounds to the effigy of the father? For a moment he felt it was not Lavji Kodar’s effigy arranged on the pyre but that of Ratilal Lavji’s. He tried to feed the fire with that burning twig. Words slipped out of his mouth: ‘O wondering soul, go back to Him. Go away here I burn the body.’ He remained seated till everything turned into ashes. Then he stood up and walked to the door. As if the door was miles away he breathed heavily. When he reached to the threshold, he found power supply cut off. He stopped. The letter reeled back into his mind. Drop by drop he was melting. His eyes moved everywhere but there was nothing that he had recollected and the darkness was deepening its claws from everywhere.