WHAT REALLY MATTERED…
Chatty uncle cleaned the perfectly spotless china doll for what must have been the 15th time. Then he started inspecting the rest of the cabinet. Age old trophies and certificates won by his baba adorned the mantel piece. Even the most frivolous ones like participation certificate for a drawing competition (a hobby he didn’t even bother pursuing beyond that point) were on the shelf. But for Amol Chatterjee or shortly called “Chatty uncle” by his baba they were priceless treasures. He took his time appreciating each piece of certificate and trophy and then walked slowly towards the sofa set. Then resting his hand on the side of the cushioned armrest he sat on the floor. Even when he had the house to himself he couldn’t imagine seating himself on the sofa itself, though sometimes he longed to feel the softness under his aching back. He had once indulged himself, though. Just a few days after his baba had left for “vilayat”. He had come out of the kitchen with a steel plate which contained two chapattis and a curry with lots of gravy, a piece of lemon and salt on the side (his standard lunch for past 60 years) when he had seen the plush sofa cushions. He sat on it and felt immediate comfort- a kind of comfort he hadn’t even known existed. In an attempt to sit with his feet up as his master used to he had spilled some gravy on it. He was frantic with worry and though the stain came off with one wash with his expertise he could never risk sitting on the sofa again. He leaned his back against the side of the set which had a bit of a lining. This he felt was a bit similar to sitting on the sofa itself.
He heard a familiar sound of footsteps. His ears strained to become alert. He wished he was a few years younger as he propped himself up and tried to what he imagined to be a sprint to the main door. He wanted to catch the little devils before they rang the bell. However his age did not allow him such kind of agility. He had hardly gone mid way when the bell rang. Several times. He counted the number of rings. Six. Which meant one of the pesky kids hadn’t gone to play. He opened the door and saw six sets of handprints on the squeaky clean mahogany door. He walked inside and got a cloth to wipe it. It seemed like they were trying to see how high they could jump. He didn’t mind the children playing; but only as long as they didn’t dirty his baba’s door. After cleaning it till he could see his reflection in it, he stared at the nameplate for a minute. Anand Bose. His baba. He resolved to catch those kids red handed next time.
Amol was only 14 when he was forced to help his father in his job- which was working as a household help. His mother had abandoned him and his father when he was an infant. People cooked up different storied to justify her disappearance. That she had run off with another man; she had a fatal disease and couldn’t risk her family knowing about it; she had angered the spirit of the nearby lake when she washed utensils which were used to serve non vegetarian food were just few of the many fairy tales he grew up listening to. But the fact remained that he had grown up motherless and had never known her to miss her. His father was also his mother. So when his father asked him to abandon his dreams of further education to join him in his “business” he did not think twice. His father used to work at five different households. But the Boses were the ones he was particularly fond of. So naturally, Amol was made to take over the 4 other households so his father could devote all his time to them. 10 years later when the Bose family proudly announced the birth of the first child of that generation, Amol saw the happiest expression on his father’s then tired face. He wondered if this was the expression father had when he, Amol, was born.
When at the age of six the child, now named Anand, called his father Chatty uncle after their surname he rushed excitedly to tell Amol the news. By now, Amol could see that it was time for the old man to retire. After much persuasion he let his son take over the household work of the Bose family and in turn Amol inherited the devotion his father had for the family. Eventually he also inherited the nickname Chatty uncle from Anand who he fondly called baba. The 24 year age difference did not stop the master and servant from bonding. In fact, their degree of bonding was much higher than what his father and he shared. When his father passed away a year later Amol took a week off to perform his final duties towards his father and then limited his world to the Bose household. A game Anand was particularly fond of was the ball game. Anand would throw a leather bound ball in any random direction and Amol was expected to catch it. Sometimes Anand would hurl the ball in direction of the shelf which had all beautiful antique pieces and Amol would throw his entire body at the ball to stop it from hitting the shelf. Anand would squeak with delight and Amol never let him know how his heart stopped every time he did that. He remembered on particular day he was idling away near the teak dining set in the kitchen and Anand started his impromptu ball game. He shot the brown ball in direction of the shelf…
He saw the ball making its way to the precious trophy case and without thinking heaved his body towards the ball. He barely caught it in his frail fingers but he did it. His eyes dimly registered a yellow sponge ball. The ball wouldn’t have done much damage to the shelf but Amol wasn’t thinking much then. He saw three faces peering through the window- unmistakable joy on their faces and he started going to the window screaming abuses. The boys ran away laughing and Amol had a secret smile on his lips. It had been a long time since he had played the ball game. He decided he will try and befriend the boys. He thought maybe they could help him bring back the joyful days.
The next day he had his ears strained to catch the youngster’s footsteps. He intended to open the door as soon as they came to ring the bell. Then he would smile and invite all of them inside, and treat them to handmade freshly baked cookies. When he finally heard the “Thump! Thump! Thump!” their little feet made his heart started beating in anticipation. As he heard them right outside the door, he quickly opened it. The boy was caught off guard. He ran away scared shouting warnings to the others who were hiding at their usual posts. He tried to call them but they did not listen. After an hour he heard the footsteps again. He hobbled to the door and opened it before they could reach for the bell. The boys again ran away. He chuckled to himself as he realized a new game had been invented. Well, then the cookies will have to wait.
The next day he kept the door open and sat by it waiting for the little ones to arrive. He had almost fallen asleep when sound of slippers slapping against the floor alerted him. The kids were nowhere in sight. Instead their postman stood by the door unsure how to address the old man sitting on the floor by an open door.
“Excuse me; are you the owner of the house?”
“I am a mere caretaker. I live here alone”
“There is a registered post for a certain Amol Chatterjee”
“That would be me.”
“You need to sign here.”
How many years had passed since he had signed his own name? His hand trembled and his mind was confused beyond explanation as he tried to remember how to spell Amol. He thanked all his stars and also spared a kind thought for his father for giving him such a short name. What if it was Ganpatray like the grocery shop owner at the corner or horrors of horrors what if was Rajnarayan Swami like the security guard who refused to be addressed by any short version of his name?
His mind leapt with joy as he realized his baba had written to him. He hastily called the postman back and made him read the letter to him so there were no delays in knowing what his baba had to say to him.
Dear Chatty uncle,
It has been a long time since I have spoken to you. I hope you are fine. Due to your eternal blessings and grace of god I am doing fine. Unfortunately due to some reason my company is downsizing and I have to leave my job here. However I have a good severance package and so Smita and I am returning back to India 20th of this month. Hoping to see you in good health,
Anand
Amol did not understand half the terms. They were paying him to leave the job? And was he actually happy about it? He did not understand youngsters’ point of view. He had given up trying along time ago. Right now all he cared about was his baba and his bahu returning to their true home. He hadn’t even seen his bahu yet. But since she was his baba’s choice he decided he would like her as much as he loved his baba.
20th couldn’t come fast enough. The only way he could keep his mind off obsessing over how time has forgotten to move ahead was by indulging himself in little games he and the boys of the building had formulated. They would throw balls from the window and he would hurl himself to catch the ball. He would run to open the door before they could ring the bell. They sometimes inserted water pipe through the open window and once had almost ruined the carpet on which Amol slept. He had a weird dream that he was drowning in the sea when he realized that the floor was wet. The source of water was quickly located and he ran to the window threatening a good cane beating to the culprit. That was the gist of the game. The boys would go any lengths to disturb his peace of mind and he would have new threats ready- including feeding the boys to rats in the basements. But he knew all of it was in good humor; that the boys enjoyed the “games” as much as he did.
20th finally arrived. He was so nervous, nothing was clean enough. He obsessed over the trophy case, the carpets; the sofa set, the television set… the list was endless. He kept the window shut today just in case the boys think of something like dung bombs in the living room. He kept visualizing his baba arriving with his bride.
“he is like a father to me, you too should touch his feet.”
And Amol would decline, and give her the bracelet which was a family heirloom to his bahu as a sort of welcome into the household.
He had inherited the heirloom when he himself got married. But his wife had left him only after one year of married life citing reason that he never could find time for her or their family life. All he cared about was the job. She had taken nothing but her own belongings but the whole experience had left him bitter. He had never married again and had left his old house to move in this one as its caretaker. He knew he would never require that house again. He remembered the day he woke up to find his house empty except for him and his own belongings and had vowed that he would never put himself or anyone else through that ordeal again. He remembered the day vividly more so, because while he was sad and being tormented with guilt and frustration, his baba was jumping with joy eagerly awaiting the arrival of a new car into the household.
“When I grow up I will drive you around the whole world,” Anand had promised.
He saw the silver Indigo arrive at the gate from the terrace. He knew that it was his baba. He marveled at the beauty of the car and compared it to chariots kings in the stories he would make up for his baba would ride on. Only they were golden. This is pure silver.
They arrived at the doorstep and his baba and bahu entered the house.
“That was one hell of a flight. I am so tired! I am going to the bedroom to rest. You join me soon ok? You have had a long day too.”
That was Smita speaking in slightly accented English, and she headed straight to the bedroom leaving him with the luggage. He eagerly looked at Anand for him to say something.
“You have grown old! And you seem to have kept well in our absence. Good! Now I guess I should retire too. Please wake me up when tea is ready, will you?”
Amol thought they had forgotten their manners completely. His friend, the vegetable vendor was right. Once you go to ‘phoren’ they forgot all traditions. He did not notice when the kids came for their “game time”. When they rang the bell Anand came out all groggy in sleep and stared at no one outside in the corridor. Amol tried explaining that they were just young kids trying to have fun.
“And I m a tired man trying to catch some sleep. God! Is that all you did when we had left you in charge? Have fun?”
Amol was close to tears. No words about how clean the house was, how tidy their bedroom was… Anand softened a little when he saw his old servant’s face.
“I am sorry. I guess it’s just jetlag. This used to be our bedtime back in the states.”
Amol nodded in understanding and went to his kitchen with his head bowed. He was still thinking about what his baba had said when he realized it was time for tea. Lost in his thoughts he went to the kitchen and as he started to pour the tea the vessel slipped from his hand and there was a loud crash as the entire set crashed to the floor.
Later, Anand and Smita were talking to each other in the bedroom as Amol slept peacefully in the other room. That was the one which had some bare necessities and which he thought of as “my own room in baba’s house.”
“Don’t you think the servant is getting too old for the job now? He ruined the tea set; heaven knows what all he has ruined in our absence.”
“Smita, he has been in our family since I was born. He is very attached to our family.”
“Does that mean we have to put up with his incompetence for the rest of our lives? We have to look for a new servant. We could give him another chance for old times’ sake but that’s it.”
“We will give him another chance.” Anand finally agreed.
The next week in the rush of the morning hour now that his baba and bahu were in the house, he didn’t realize the ball getting hurled at the shelf. When he did realize he belatedly swung his hand again destroying a vase sitting on the edge of the show case collection. The vase was gift from Smita’s mother as a house warming present.
“I do not like the idea of firing him, Smita. He has been with me for too long. Its like firing an old friend.”
“So does that mean my feelings mean nothing to you?”
Anand was torn between love for his wife and loyalty of his Chatty uncle. The Chatty uncle who was with him since he learnt how to speak, the one who played with him, took him to park to play, observed him while he was studying, covered up for him when he hid story books behind his textbooks in time of examinations.
“We can give him enough money so he can live in comfort for the rest of his life. It will be like a severance package. We are doing fine, aren’t we? He will do fine too.”
When she put it this way, he couldn’t argue much.
******
Amol looked around at his empty “room” for the last time. Now that he though of it, it was never really full of belongings. Everything that was in there easily fit in the small bundle he carried on his shoulder. And the bundle wasn’t even too heavy. What was heavy was the lump in his throat as he realized there was nowhere he could really go. he remembered his old house and wondered what state it would be in now.
As he walked down the corridors he saw, for the first time all seven faces of his little tormentors at once. They looked younger than he’d imagined. He remembered how they had made him come alive even at this age, how they reminded him of the times when his baba adored him more than anyone else. As he thought of his baba the scowl in his face got stuck to his face. He could not move the muscles required to turn it into a smile. The children looked terrified. They had always feared him, and hence took utmost glee to see him helplessly running around falling for their tricks. It gave them immense pleasure to see him go as they had a deep rooted fear that he would actually carry out his threat and cane them or feed them to the rats in the basement.
Amol finally managed to smile at them and wink at them so they could for the last time acknowledge all the fun they had while playing their little games. But the children took to their heels as soon as they realized Amol was looking at them.
Maybe they just don’t realize they are never going to see me again. I always had a way with the kids. It is good to know that my life wasn’t totally worthless. I brought happiness in life of my baba and these children, even if in this case I wish the happiness had lasted longer.
His mind was filled with inexplicable joy as he waved goodbye to the security guard who saluted him as he left the building. And that was what really mattered in the end.
