“Amma… what are you doing later
today?”
“The same thing that I do
everyday my sweets.. sitting and waiting for you guys.”
“I am bored. Let’s do something.
Should I clean the storeroom?”
Amma rolled her eyes. “You want
to clean the storeroom because you are bored?”
“Avunu (yes). Summer breaks are
only fun for kids. How long can you and I sit and gossip? Come na, lets either
go somewhere or do something!” Pema pleaded.
“Pema, who will look after the
kids if both of us go out? And they don’t want to go anywhere. Come, let’s
watch some movie on Disney na. My knees don’t let me do much cleaning work
now.”
“Amma, amma, it will be fun. Let
me do it. You just sit there and give instructions, ok? Rangamma will help me
clean. You just instruct, ok?”
Amma agreed. The storeroom, which
is hardly found in houses these days (the servant room, on the other hand, is
ubiquitous), was such a dear part of her house. She had no idea how this
generation lived without a courtyard or a backyard or a storeroom. She and her
husband had sacrificed one extra room so that they could have a backyard for
the kids to play.
“But..” she thought to herself
with a sigh, “Why should I judge the kids? Even our house was not made in the
traditional Andhra style, no? Girish and I designed the house in a way that was
modern for our times. Let the kids live their lives.”
“Great!” Pema jumped for joy and
Amma returned to the present. It was rare to see the kids this happy now.
Mostly, they just frowned.
Pema (not Prema) and Varun were
the two kids of amma. Pema lived in Bengaluru and came to spend summers with
her mother in Hyderabad. Varun lived in Hyderabad, but in the hi-tec city, the
new part of town.
Summers was when the kids of both
families spent a month together in amma’s house. Varun and his wife visited
over the weekend, while Pema lived with her mom.
Both Varun and Pema had two
children each, and the four cousins had a ball every summer.
************
Rangamma helped with the cleaning
of the storeroom. After the top dusting of all the items had been done and the
baskets taken out with enough giggles and memories, they reached the biggest
part of the storeroom – the large trunk with the mattresses and quilts. In all
old houses, this aluminum trunk was so vital that it was given as part of
dowry. On top of the big trunk was another trunk – aluminum, but black, like
the fauji trunks. No name though.
“Dad got that once and kept his
secrets in it. I peeked, of course, from time to time. After he left, I didn’t
have the heart to even open the trunk, let alone peek.” Amma sighed.
“So, should we leave it alone?”
Pema wasn’t sure.
Rangamma piped in, “No, no, open
no. If not now, when? Who knows what we will find inside? What if anna had a
diamond stashed away for the rainy day and then we can all be rich?”
In spite of themselves, they all
laughed. Pema’s dad had passed away in an accident many years ago. Amma had had
to raise the kids alone, of course. But in his lifetime, he had made this huge
house where Amma could host paying guests and tenants and make money while
taking care of the children.
The black trunk was duly opened.
***********
Inside the trunk were the usual
things that men used to cherish before man caves became a thing. Poetry that
they wrote and never showed to anyone, random things bought at various times,
the first paycheck, KG report cards of the children, the first bottle of
perfume that amma bought for him, empty but not discarded, a small handkerchief
with his initials hand embroidered by god knows who, a small copper pot that
used to belong to appa’s mother, and a pair of glasses that used to belong to
appa’s appa. Some other assorted stuff.
Ma touched each item with so much
love. “He was such a loving man! Always, such a loving man! How he preserved
his amma and appa even after they passed away. Never used to talk about them..
but here they are!”
Under all of this, bottom right
side, emerged a small …roll of film! Was it new? Was it half done? Full and
ready to be given to the photo studio? Why was it in his treasure chest?
“Only one way to find out!”
Amma’s eyes gleamed.
“Easier said than done Amma.
Where are the photo studios now? Everyone is digital.”
“Raja Deen Dayal and Sons, SP
Road.” Amma said with a tone of finality.
*****
And so it was, that Pema found
herself at Raja Deen Dayal and sons. A classic store tucked away from the main
road such that if you didn’t know it, you would never find out.
An old man came out to meet her.
“You want this reel to be developed? I am sorry beta, we don’t have machines
for this anymore. We will have to send it to someone who does this by hand.
Will that be ok? It will take 3-4 days.”
Pema sighed. Once upon a time,
there used to be QSS – Quick Service. Those white machines converting reels to
photographs in 3-4 hours, and there was this. Back to the future, as they say.
To the gentleman, she simply said, “Sure, uncle. Please do that.”
****************
Four days later, Pema stepped in
to collect her pictures. At home, the storeroom had been cleaned. The quilts in
the big trunk had been aired and put back. The stuff from appa’s trunk had
vanished somewhere in amma’s room, and she wouldn’t tell them where. Varun was
due to come that evening, so Pema thought it would make for a nice viewing –
appa’s last known reel and all of them together.
She picked up the packet. The
uncle at the store had packed her envelope in waterproof plastic. She could not
believe his kindness. Touched, she thanked him, paid, and left. She was so
excited!
************
In the evening, the entire family
gathered around the pictures.
One by one, they were taken out
and passed around. They were all pictures of amma. Only amma. Unguarded
moments. She did not know she was being clicked. And she looked so beautiful in
each of them.
Amma saw each one and tried to
remember where and when that had been taken. Sometimes she succeeded. Mostly,
it turned into a guessing game for the family.
“Nanju’s wedding”
“No, no that one’s half sari
celebration. Padma’s I think.”
“Aiyyo, no papa, that other
housewarming it was.”
“This was the picnic at
Gandipet.”
“No, no, clearly the holiday at
Ooty. You are blind or what?”
The last image, however, was not
a picture of amma. Or anything. It was a picture of a handwritten letter. In
appa’s handwriting.
“If you are seeing this, my dear,
you are either spying on me, or I am dead.
If you are spying on me, this is
proof that there is only you. Don’t worry, and don’t listen to your stupid
friends.
If I am dead, it means I never
got a chance to see these pictures.
As you can see, they were taken
when you were not looking. You do not know this, but you look loveliest when
you don’t pose.
This is my personal reel of you.
I won’t even share it with you. One day, when you grow old, maybe 75 or 80, I
will give you this album as a surprise gift. Can’t wait to see your face that
day! But it will be worth it!
Love
Your Giri”
*****************
As this last picture got passed
around, the chatter turned to stunned silence. Within 2 minutes, there was pin-drop
silence in the room.
Amma had just celebrated her 75th
birthday. Last week.
