Friday, June 24, 2011

She shared only Happiness


She shared happiness ... only happiness ... pure, unadulterated Happiness ... yes ... for she was Life in all its glory ... 💐💐💐

I am sure every morning the Sun entered her home as if from all directions making it the brightest spot on this Planet.

Her house was open, airy and cheerful.
And she was forever eager to absorb the tiniest of the delightful rays of Hope, and reflect it back in her smile

There never was a spec of dust anywhere. 
Never had there been a time when her things were misplaced.
No messy wardrobes. 
Never ever a chaotic moment in the kitchen.
Shining cutlery, gleaming crockery, crisp curtains, embroidered cushion covers, lavish green plants, magnificent vases ...

There was a place for everything, and everything had to to be essentially in that very place. 
That was the only way things could exist in her home.

She was "Aapa Jaan".
Although I have shared a pic of hers at the end of this article , I don't want to make her name public .
So here in this homage to her , I ll call her Apaa Jaan

With her there was that "native-place-walaa-connection". Aapa Jaan's and my parents' families belonged to Shahjahanpur in UP , and so I had often heard my parents mentioning her family in their conversations

The first time I saw her was in my sister's wedding album 
It is the pic that I ve shared at the end of this article 
In the picture my father is having a hearty laugh , so characteristic of him 😊 , while Apaa Jaan and her daughter are smiling charmingly 😊🥰💞💞💞
This was outside our Tata colony bungalow 


I was to come to know later that she never let an opportunity to smile go by without making the most of it.

Much later meeting her personally was an experience I will always remember.
Vivacious.
Pleasantly chatterbox-ish.
And domineering 😊

I was still thinking of adjectives to describe her in our first meeting when I noticed her hands. 

They lay almost still in her lap as she seemed to be sitting comfortably in her doubly cushioned chair, slightly higher than the rest of us, wearing a colourful printed cotton gown.

Honestly her manicured fingers, would have looked long and beautiful had they not been a little crooked. 
She apparently seemed oblivious of my gaze travelling further down to her feet. They were also not normal, resting rather awkwardly in the padded footwear from Fabindia.

But the smile that lit up her beautiful dusky face seemed natural and effortless. Her large blackish-brown eyes, her proud straight nose, her long black hair ...
Every little thing was under her supreme control although she was suffering from arthritis.

The little movements that she could make on her own were full of agony and stress.
But the disease was only one part of the long struggle that life had been for her. 

And yet here she was enthusiastically talking of the latest improvisation in her aam-ka-achaar and the Aloe Vera juice and gel that had worked wonders on her daughter's Mother-in-law's skin and helped add "so much" glow to her face 😊 !!!

I was completely awestruck. The more I met her the more I respected her. She was an inspiration, a bundle of positive energy, a light that filled you with happiness.

On one of my visits Aapa Jaan gifted me a small Aloe Vera plant, that has remained
with me and flourished abundantly, just like my attachment with her over the years.

An expert cook , Aapa Jaan always had the best of kababs and koftas ready to be served at the shortest notice. 
The aroma of food at her dining table was for me the best in the whole of Bombay because it used to be exactly the same as that which used to fill my grand-parents' sprawling courtyard in Shahjahanpur when the "khaansama" would be busy supervising his assistants working on clay choolahs with wood fire.

A fine and talented dressmaker, Aapa Jaan used to successfully run a designing and tailoring business to which she had given not just her sweat but her character too.

Every time I visited her I noticed a little deterioration in her health. But never in her spirit and vigour. 

One day I complimented her on her sewing skills ... She was indeed proficient , neat and quick with her stitches ... and a resourceful designer too ...
With a sparkle in her eyes and without a moment's hesitation she said :
"You should see my daughter's expertise ... she's way ahead of me ... I feel so proud of her ... 😊"

Last year when I greeted Aapa Jaan on Women's Day, she told me she was in the hospital. 
She had gone in for a knee replacement operation. It went off fine, the recovery was satisfactory , and it would be only a matter of some more time before she would resume her routine 
But in the meantime she had an unfortunate fall.
So she was in the hospital once again because the accident had fractured her femur this time

Aapa Jaan took all these downturns with a characteristic fortitude that was so inseparable from her
But could her immense will power reverse the weakening that her inside was experiencing ?

It did not take long for the effects to show on her body externally too.

A few months ago my sister and I visited her. She was lying in bed. A sheet covering her frail body. The conversation this time was mostly about her health. 

I saw for the first time her suffering taking its toll. In a moment of acute emotional anxiety she lifted the sheet. 
And what we saw is etched in my memory. There was nothing beneath the sheet except a mass of bones covered with pale lackluster skin.

It was frighteningly depressing.

That was the first time I had seen her lying down. 
And after that every time I saw her, she was lying down 
Her bed clean and neatly made. 
The house all tidy. 
Her television serials running their length. 
And her husband running about doing odd jobs for her. 
He had also mastered the art of facing hard times with a smile.

Aapa Jaan had once upon a time , gone to school with the late Madhubala's younger sister. Often we got to hear of the happy times they had spent. 
Apaa Jaan had told us that Madhur Ji herself used to visit her whenever time permitted and they would spend a cheerful time together  

And this last time that I went to her place on hearing of her death , the house was spotlessly clean , everything seemed to be in its place. 
Only the tearing silence was a misfit in the house which used to buzz with the pleasant chatter of its Lady.
She had been buried in the nearby grave yard the night before. 

A tired looking family soaked in grief met me.
We talked about her in between pauses loaded with emotion.

I remembered the pride and affection with which Aapa Jaan would describe the sewing skills of her daughter and I told her this
She looked at me with pained eyes 
And then I was speechless. 
Stunned at the irony , it's agony unbearable, as the daughter said in a quivering voice, swallowing the lump in her throat

"Kal un ka kafan main ne hi siya tha ..."



11 comments:

suhail zaman said...

nce coming deep from heart

Sunil said...

Absolutely fascinating emotions weaved into superb language coming straight out of the heart. For me its quite goose-bumpy and nostalgic feeling in the sense that I can identify with many facets of the emotional mosaic you have so beautifully crafted. I am a great fan of your writing skills and human qualities you posses. Salaam Aapa.

Sunil said...

Absolutely fascinating emotions weaved into superb language coming straight out of the heart. For me its quite goose-bumpy and nostalgic feeling in the sense that I can identify with many facets of the emotional mosaic you have so beautifully crafted. I am a great fan of your writing skills and human qualities you posses. Salaam Aapa.

Unknown said...

Savoured your memories as if they were mine own.
What can I say about your writing skill Zohra....Simple straight forward and direct to the heart.
Long may Aapa Jaan live in our hearts.

naSim said...

emotions.....
very beautifully presented in words that come direct direct from heart
may ALLAH bless U .....

naSim

naSim said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Zohra Javed said...

Dear Amla , Sunil , Suhail , Nasim Saheb !
Thankyou all very much

Aapaa Jaan really lives in my heart .... and yet at times I miss her very much

shubha shamim said...

What a great generation we had as our mothers and aunts! Without any support of liberation movement, but we could really feel their souls were liberated and had that depth which gave solace not only to them but also to the people they were connected with.

Zohra Javed said...

So true ...... We can never thank them enough

Vivek S Patwardhan said...

Touching.....

Zohra Javed said...

:-)
Thanks a lot