Thirty Years Of A Relationship!

Five decades back, when women of my age were tending to their families or hurrying out for office work, I was spending my weekends waiting patiently for the Sunday edition of the Hindu newspaper to review the properties sale column. If you think I was doing this because I was loaded with money, you would be wrong. I was determined to find a small flat to own after having undergone traumatic experience as a tenant even without much money.

After two months of relentless search, there was a two-liner ad that caught my attention, because of its affordable price range and the location right in the heart of the city. The only negative point about this property was that it was located on the third floor without a lift. I made up my mind to look at the flat the same evening.

When my husband and I first stepped into the unfinished flat on the 3rd floor one late evening, the first thing that stuck me was the cool blue rays of the moon, peeping through the large windows and the gentle salty sea breeze wiping away not only the tiny beads of perspiration on my forehead, but also the nagging thoughts about our future. A divine moment that gave me a wondrous feeling of human warmth and security. What a delightful sight it was to see the full moon rising majestically, amidst the starkness of the dark sky and the dull stars twinkling far way from the moon! We knew we were home.

Yes I enjoyed the unbridled beauty nature provided all the years I lived there —stunning sunrise, sunsets, full moons, along with those endless Diwali celebrations, a veritable feast to the eyes, scores of rockets jetting into the skies, blasting and pouring out wonderful luminous sparkles!

After settling down in the house, the harsh realities of living in the middle of a busy commercial complex came to the fore. There was a mosaic tile making factory next door, whose existence we didn’t know about till we moved in.While resting on the cot, after a tiresome day of moving our belongings, loud thuds shook me up from my slumber. When this went on through out the day, I found out to my dismay, that the disturbing noise was coming from the mosaic tile factory, where manual labor was used in making tiles.

The next major noise pollution came from a flour mill, next door, where scores of people descended to grind flours, pulses, powders of spices, polishing of rice etc. The non-stop ear splitting sounds of those machines was a head ache. The only solace amidst the screeching noise, was that I could enjoy the fresh aroma of sambar, rasam powders and In the evenings the heady fragrance of turmeric, soapnut, and other herbal bathing powders.

There was an Owners association, that met regularly. All gatherings ended in utter chaos and pandemonium, with unparliamentary words thrown at each other and sometimes even ending up in fisticuffs. Most of the owners had decent jobs,were well educated, and with kids studying in the best schools, but none of these reflected even an iota in their behavior in public.

After a decade, the sump which was almost full with good drinking water, turned useless due to the mixing of sewage water. A hand pump provided relief to some extent, but the only problem was the water got distributed in the middle of the night. We had to keep our ears tuned to the sounds of people hitting the hand pumps and run as fast as we could with all the buckets, pots and containers to fill them up and then carry them right up to the third floor. The ground floor people would even bring all their soiled clothes to be washed then and there, without giving a thought for others. Thus every night turned into a Shivaratri or vaikunta ekadesi, where instead of offering prayers to the God, we were running after the precious liquid —water.

We had a watchman only in name because he was busy carrying out endless chores like going to banks, shops, post office, doing personal work for the residents, resulting in an unguarded apartment and complete strangers barging in. Many times I was witness to drunkards lying on the landing of the staircase in a state of semi undress, sleeping like Kumbhakarnas, despite the watchman’s serious efforts to pull them out from their drunken stupor!

Even though the residents did not often see eye to eye, the children thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company. Now these children have turned into adults who have flown to distant shores, having become citizens of US, Canada, Australia, UK etc.

Those nook and crannies which used to echo with peels of laughter of children running helter skelter, now sport a vacant look. The senior citizens, who used to fight breathlessly about the smallest of issues in their heydays, are now nurturing creaky bones, failed kidneys, etc with a vacant and sad look in their eyes. Time stands still here, but the majestic facade of the building with its peeling layers of paint and multiple cracks on its surface, stands proud with a mighty feeling of having sheltered us all, from the calamities of nature!

After 30 years, I had to shift to be closer to my mother. Taking a last look at my lovely palace, my most reliable friend, who faithfully stood by me all the years, it was with a heavy heart and sadness, I bid adieu with tears in eyes, as my taxi raced away.

 

Dear Dhamini,

Thank you for your first feed back. Yes, just like any other relationship, you realise the special bonding you develop for a brick and stone house over the course of years, only at the time of your leaving it. I was helpless in watching the edifice crumbling, due to utter lack of concern by the residents, not willing to share the financial burden of repairing it- It’s just like the indifference we show to our heritage structures. Glad you enjoyed my writing.

Agatha83

 

Dear Thyagarajan,

In the 50s one ground of a land in Nandanam area, which now has become the head quarters of Metro rail, cost only Rs1000, which my grandfather refused to buy when asked by the Housing Board. The same land value now runs into crores. Imagine how rich I would have been, if only he had invested wisely.

Those days we didn’t acquire so much of household furniture, articles, gadgets as we are doing now, and shifting houses was like a breeze. With a small bullock cart, the entire household things would be shifted within minutes. The rents were also affordable because we had less money in our hands.

Triplicane and Mylapore have similar Agraharam style of houses, long, narrow and winding. Now all that has changed with the emergence of flats, the rents jumping to 30k.

Gone are the days where we could share everything with our neighbors, including sambar morkuzhambu in exchange for Biriyani.My grandfather throughout his life never bought a single newspaper even for a day, and it was always OC. Now even a six month old demands privacy as their birth right

Anyway let me not brag about the golden days like we all seniors do. Times have changed and we have to let go everything finally!

Thanks for your nostalgic FB.

Agatha83

 

Dear Shyamala,

When we are young, we are able to accept changes in our life happily, but when we are old, we become sentimental and emotional about the things we loved very much. Almost a year I cried my heart out, when my DD left me, for her higher studies at the age of 16. Writing this snippet enabled me to come out of my grief, which I was nurturing for a long time. Thank you for your nice FB.

Agatha83