No Good at Goodbyes
Funny how you think, some things are never going to change and some people are never going to age. Funny how you think that in a changing world, the familiar faces from childhood will continue to be around long after you have left home. Funny how you see the fallacy of it all in retrospect.
The mail was short. It just said Gangabai had passed away,she wasnt in much pain and this had come as a kind of a shock to everyone around.
I stared blankly at my mother's email. She said she knew it was going to shock me but she said Gangabai would have wanted me to know. Do people really want other people to know...what about people who go through life guarding their lives behind a veil of stoicism, do they remain impartial in death too? But I digress, I grew up around Gangabai and when you grow up around someone,you dont think of secrets and facades...you just get used to them featuring in your life....like I got used to her featuring in my life.
She was there when I got home from school, a calm dignified presence in the background dusting the cupboards or helping my mum clean the kitchen. She was there when I arrived after doing well in an exam, after having a tiff with a best friend, after arriving caked in dust after a sports day, after tearfully banging through the front door when life and a teacher had been unfair to me.
She stayed long enough to see that I made up with the same "best" friend after every major fight, that I listened to my Dad's snippets of wisdom on life not always being fair and through many more exams, some of which I made the grade and some others which taught me lessons not previously learnt. She stuck around till grazed knees and pink hair clips gave way to MnBs and my first ever lipstick. She waved me off to my first "Rose Day" at college and she waited with Mum in the front garden till I got back 6 hours later, flushed,blushing a tad disappointed too.
She saw the transition from "I want Mummy" to "Can you puhleeeze leave me alone for the next 10 minutes" and later back to "I miss you when I am away Mum". She watched from the shadows as my crushes (the normal and the obnoxious) called up and were sometimes given the cold shoulder by my Mum and Dad. Whenever I erupted into "You didnt have to embarass me", she would smile and say "Somethings and some kinds of wisdom never change down the ages you know" as she exchanged looks of solidarity with my Mum and Dad.
She cried when the day finally came for me to pack my bags and move to Bangalore. I cried too but through my impatient tears I was finally waiting for my first ever job and my first ever pay and I consoled myself that I had to leave home anyways and wouldnt she be around when I came back! Indeed she was, she would listen when I told her about my workplace, my new friends, my snooty boss, the wonder of living in a crowded metro. She would sometimes silently wipe a tear with her frayed pallu and say "Its lonely around here though, the phone doesnt ring, there are no friends of yours parked here and I miss not having all your things lying around"...and I would suddenly realize that homes change when someone leaves them...irrevocably and for ever.
When in a few years I made the big move overseas, she cried all over again,this time I cried too for I knew how hard it was,hadnt I learnt that in the past 2 years. "Will you come with Mum and Dad to see me off?" I asked her. "No child", she replied, "I will wish you well though, I am no good at goodbyes".
As the bus wound it way out of my hometown and I turned around to have a last look at the crowded,zigzagged streets and familiar shops and alleys, I saw her...she was standing away from the crowd that had come to see me off, but she had come and her gentle face was lined with worry and behind the brown glasses, I could see glistening tears.
I met her over the years, this time we had tales of my new country, of the things I had learnt, the things I missed and the things I would forver love no matter where I went or what I did. We would sit on the terrace near the old mango tree, both of us cutting a quaint picture and we would talk and she would tell me how much my parents missed me even though they never said it in their emails for fear of upsetting me. "Dont worry about us though", she would say briskly, "we have all the family here and except for missing you, we dont have anything to worry about".
I saw her for the last time in March, I was to leave the next day and she didnt want to say goodbye as usual. I kept it light, I will see you next year I said...she smiled, "Indeed you will, look after yourself, we will all wait for next year". Then she was gone, the gate creaked and then fell silent and the golden afternoon wore on. That was then...the mail made it seem like it was yesterday. You dont think of the possibility that a goodbye can be your final one...arent goodbyes supposed to be interludes till we meet again.
She was right, she was no good at goodbyes...but hey she didnt know that I am no good at them either, or perhaps she did. She was right about one thing though...it is not only homes, lives change too when someones leaves... irrevocably and forever.
RIP.
Scarlett
The mail was short. It just said Gangabai had passed away,she wasnt in much pain and this had come as a kind of a shock to everyone around.
I stared blankly at my mother's email. She said she knew it was going to shock me but she said Gangabai would have wanted me to know. Do people really want other people to know...what about people who go through life guarding their lives behind a veil of stoicism, do they remain impartial in death too? But I digress, I grew up around Gangabai and when you grow up around someone,you dont think of secrets and facades...you just get used to them featuring in your life....like I got used to her featuring in my life.
She was there when I got home from school, a calm dignified presence in the background dusting the cupboards or helping my mum clean the kitchen. She was there when I arrived after doing well in an exam, after having a tiff with a best friend, after arriving caked in dust after a sports day, after tearfully banging through the front door when life and a teacher had been unfair to me.
She stayed long enough to see that I made up with the same "best" friend after every major fight, that I listened to my Dad's snippets of wisdom on life not always being fair and through many more exams, some of which I made the grade and some others which taught me lessons not previously learnt. She stuck around till grazed knees and pink hair clips gave way to MnBs and my first ever lipstick. She waved me off to my first "Rose Day" at college and she waited with Mum in the front garden till I got back 6 hours later, flushed,blushing a tad disappointed too.
She saw the transition from "I want Mummy" to "Can you puhleeeze leave me alone for the next 10 minutes" and later back to "I miss you when I am away Mum". She watched from the shadows as my crushes (the normal and the obnoxious) called up and were sometimes given the cold shoulder by my Mum and Dad. Whenever I erupted into "You didnt have to embarass me", she would smile and say "Somethings and some kinds of wisdom never change down the ages you know" as she exchanged looks of solidarity with my Mum and Dad.
She cried when the day finally came for me to pack my bags and move to Bangalore. I cried too but through my impatient tears I was finally waiting for my first ever job and my first ever pay and I consoled myself that I had to leave home anyways and wouldnt she be around when I came back! Indeed she was, she would listen when I told her about my workplace, my new friends, my snooty boss, the wonder of living in a crowded metro. She would sometimes silently wipe a tear with her frayed pallu and say "Its lonely around here though, the phone doesnt ring, there are no friends of yours parked here and I miss not having all your things lying around"...and I would suddenly realize that homes change when someone leaves them...irrevocably and for ever.
When in a few years I made the big move overseas, she cried all over again,this time I cried too for I knew how hard it was,hadnt I learnt that in the past 2 years. "Will you come with Mum and Dad to see me off?" I asked her. "No child", she replied, "I will wish you well though, I am no good at goodbyes".
As the bus wound it way out of my hometown and I turned around to have a last look at the crowded,zigzagged streets and familiar shops and alleys, I saw her...she was standing away from the crowd that had come to see me off, but she had come and her gentle face was lined with worry and behind the brown glasses, I could see glistening tears.
I met her over the years, this time we had tales of my new country, of the things I had learnt, the things I missed and the things I would forver love no matter where I went or what I did. We would sit on the terrace near the old mango tree, both of us cutting a quaint picture and we would talk and she would tell me how much my parents missed me even though they never said it in their emails for fear of upsetting me. "Dont worry about us though", she would say briskly, "we have all the family here and except for missing you, we dont have anything to worry about".
I saw her for the last time in March, I was to leave the next day and she didnt want to say goodbye as usual. I kept it light, I will see you next year I said...she smiled, "Indeed you will, look after yourself, we will all wait for next year". Then she was gone, the gate creaked and then fell silent and the golden afternoon wore on. That was then...the mail made it seem like it was yesterday. You dont think of the possibility that a goodbye can be your final one...arent goodbyes supposed to be interludes till we meet again.
She was right, she was no good at goodbyes...but hey she didnt know that I am no good at them either, or perhaps she did. She was right about one thing though...it is not only homes, lives change too when someones leaves... irrevocably and forever.
RIP.
Scarlett
posted by Scarlett_OHara at 3:45 PM
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