Two good things happened yesterday. One – finally after months of waiting and weeks of scorching heat it finally rained in Bangalore; and second – after years of letting time take its course and getting caught up in life I finally reconnected with my Paati after a long time.
Readers who have followed my blogs since a long time know of my brief stint in Chennai. I stayed for albeit six months until COVID cut my time short. In that brief period I went from the dinghy room in a PG in T Nagar to a semi habitable room in the swanky by lanes of OMR. I cannot explain the relief I had with finally getting rid of the Oliver Twist menu of my PG with watery dal, Pongal which resembled a big blob of glue, controlled portions of edibles and unlimited amount of the food which can at best be described as horse poop – I lost a decade worth of weight in a go. Beyond that, the inhuman living conditions with unventilated hallway, a 4×4 room with just one window and being locked inside like cattle by 9pm on the top of studying 16 hours per day for NEET entrances was the last straw in my emotional state. Within two days I sat in front of the window on my bed sobbing uncontrollably thinking why was I in this godforsaken city 1000s of miles away from my home with no one I could turn to. The weather was hot and humid, and after a point sweat could compete with the flow rate of tears.
Right then a soft breeze flew through the window and the very empty balcony right opposite to my window which was empty no more but now replaced with a almost toothless Paati with the kindest smile in the world. I hurriedly wiped my tears. She waved, I waved back. She asked me if I was new here – I said yes, I had recently moved to Chennai for my coaching classes in T Nagar. She was surprised by how far I had come from just to study and told me that she had lived there in T Nagar almost her entire life and now she lived there alone with her children and grandchildren settled in the US.
When I told her that I was a doctor her face gleamed. Suddenly she quipped, “Why don’t you come over ma? I will make you some coffee”. My affection and nutrition starved brain put all thoughts of parents saying don’t talk to strangers, don’t take food from strangers and most importantly, do not go to strangers’ houses! I made my way giddily down the quaint staircase, opened the front gate and jolly well went around and then realized my folly – I never asked for the house number or name !
Then I used logic and all coordinates of geometry to arrive at the conclusion that this particular house could be Paati’s. As I was gallivanting into the compound, ignoring the “Beware of dogs!” sign on the front gate, somebody waved to me from the next gate – Paati’s household help who told me she was waiting for me upstairs. I sheepishly grinned and made my way up. It was a rickety staircase leading up to the first floor with traditional south Indian architecture. The moment I reached the top Paati welcomed me with huge smile.
“Hello ma, so nice of you to come visit me. Come, come sit down”, she waved at the sofa. I sat down on it. She told she’ll be back in a bit and went to the kitchen. The TV was on with some Tamil song on it. My vocabulary by then, note a week of stay, was limited to ‘Yepdi irkenge? Nallarka” and I planned to use that to the fullest extent to charm people along with my moderate exposure to Tamil movies and songs especially the one by A.R Rahman – yet this song went above my head.
Paati returned with a brass tumbler of filter coffee which I eagerly took a sip of – my senses exploded. All my tiredness, frustration, the pain and struggle which had led to my hasty decision of coming to Chennai – melted in the warmth of the another human being who had taken in a not so little girl lost in the city with no one to turn to, no familiar language with and no familiarity with in seconds.
“It’s so flavourful, Paati. I have never tasted coffee like this before”. She chuckled at my glee – “It’s filter coffee ma, I do not have anything else. I ground the beans and make it myself everyday”. I nodded along appreciatively. As I sipped a little more I noticed the garlanded photo of a thaata infront of me on the showcase. She followed my sight.
“My husband was a doctor too”, she said with a fondness that would betray that almost a year had gone by to his death. She told how he used to be a general practitioner who loved to treat patients at meagre amounts and was quite known in T Nagar. This house was built by his blood and sweat and every part of it decorated by her. They had had a simple wedding but a stronger marriage where he used to be quite busy with his work. It had been their 50th anniversary when he had decided to take her to the temple she had been begging him to take her to after finally finding time out of his busy schedule – when they came back, he collapsed on the sofa and passed away from a massive heart attack. Now despite their pleas, she did not want to leave the house and go to her kids settled in the US. I smiled and let her talk about him, you could see the sparkle in her eyes every time she mentioned him. The air in the house spoke of him, each of his memory so delicately preserved. She would look at his photograph longingly in between and talk lovingly of him. In the age of Tinder and Bumble, situationship and other godforsaken terminologies that gen Z has devised there was this woman who had found solace in her husband’s memories. I hugged her.
“You’re so sweet, Paati. I will visit you everyday. From now on you are my Paati”, I told off. She chuckled and patted my head.
Thus began weeks of evening coffee sessions at Paati’s place. Every time I would feel down with my preparations, worn down by the MCQs, Grand tests and life I would make my way to Paati’s place where a piping hot filter coffee would wait for me. Every visit would have a bit of thaata’s stories in it. One day when Paati looked a bit down and I urged to do her checkup she took out thaata’s stethoscope lovingly. She told me how she loved Savitri amma and Shivaji Ganeshan; and I told her how much I loved ‘Ok Kanmani’ and sang ‘Malargal Kettaen’ for her. This unconventional friendship raised several eyebrows at my home and hers. My aunt would listen to my story with horror and reprimand me of how I could be so trusting of strangers and her sisters who came to check in on her thought i was some con girl fleecing her. We sent them a selfie of us for verification and chuckled over it on another cup of coffee.
When I cleared my entrances, she was overjoyed, “Oh please apply to some college in Chennai ma. I know you love this city”
“Sure, I would Paati”, I quipped. Yet destiny had other plans and I would not only leave T Nagar and shift to OMR to join corporate but then even COVID would cut that short to transport me back to Rourkela and finally Karnataka where I would end up doing post graduation. Yet I promised to visit her from time to time.
The first new year’s and in between I kept in touch with her over call – every time I heard her delighted voice I would remember her smile and feel her warmth and blessings wash over me. Then the pace of residency took over, then life happened and somehow in the midst of all Paati was pushed to the back of my mind with that ever constant fear that considering her age, would I able to take it if I called and it went unanswered. I let it go.
Yesterday morning as I went through my twitter timeline I came across this particular tweet which said how we should make time to talk to the elderly even if they are strangers who look out for that connection in their lives and become happy with this small act of kindness since their days are numbered – and I remembered my Paati whose act of kindness and connection made one not so little girl navigate the big city independent life once and in an act of bravado I texted her –
“Good morning Paati
Been a long time since we spoke
Hope you’re doing well and remember me
P 🙂 “
I sent the text and waited. No reply. A dread filled me, but I pushed it back. Hours went by, I went to work, got lost in OT and OPDs and forgot about it. I came home and started helping my mother in the kitchen since my parents have been visiting for a couple of days and suddenly my phone pinged –
“Hi P, what a pleasant surprise
I never expected from you
How are you?
Completed PG?
May God bless you always !”
I choked. It was raining in Bangalore after months of wait and my Paati was hale and hearty, replying to me. I immediately called her. That familiar happy, delighted voice came through – “Hi P, How are you? What a pleasant surprise! It is so nice to hear your voice! Where are you ma these days? I am 92 now!” My heart was overfilled. That voice was so calming to hear after years and I could picture her smile as if it was yesterday. I enquired about her health, she couldn’t move around much anymore but was still managing. Her sisters used to come check on her. Her grandson was married to the Chinese girl he was dating the last time we spoke and she was still making her filter coffee. She urged me to come visit her whenever I was in Chennai and I mentally booked a date to go to Chennai just to meet her.
After I put down the call, I wondered, life has been so kind to me with it’s varied experiences. I have lived in so many cities by now and found so many varied experiences in them. Some kind and some not so – yet there’s always one person I would always remember the city for. Be it one of my dearest friends in Delhi who brought me hot soup when I was sick despite having known me a couple of days in coaching. Be it someone who helped me settle into the city of Bangalore and the crippling initial days of fellowship with his calming presence or be it my Paati with her hot cup of filter coffee in Chennai.
When people take a look at me they see the long exciting life and achievements I have lived, but I can tell you that for every step that I have taken in life it has always been possible because of that one act of kindness by someone who didn’t realise they are so significant in my journey. Through all the unkindness and troughs I have lived that one simple act of kindness or love has washed over the pain of the rest of the days.
As I navigate one of the most confusing times of life right now personally and professionally, reminiscing about this particular incident brought me significant joy. Through those dark days, Paati served as my light – someone who came from nowhere and turned my world around to give me the strength to push on and reach where I am.
We never know whose lives we’ll touch or who’ll do it for us will we?
Love,
P.
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