The Wise Ones.

“Thatha, you can’t be a student in our school. You are too old!”, said Vikky.

“You let Paatti be a student? Why can’t Thatha join?” said Charu.

“It’s ok Charu, I can just watch” I said.

Once again, I sat wondering how much life had changed with Vikky and Anu. Who would have thought that a boring old man like me, would find life interesting again at this age?

I remember my mother telling me, when Chandru was born, that only those who had committed some big sin in the past life would have girl children. I don’t know if she meant for Charu to hear it. Charu – who had grown up with two sisters, and who had to endure my mother’s acid-tongue and my complicity with my silence – never supporting, but then, never protesting either. That is how I was brought up – to never talk back to elders. I guess, that’s how Charu was brought up too. She protested weakly sometimes within the confines of our room, but then gave up after a while.

Charu wanted to name our son ‘Trivikraman’. She never got to even suggest it to my mother, who had already decided upon Chandramouli, after the deity in Kanchipuram. Apparently she wanted to name me that, but her mother-in-law chose my name – Sankaran. I guess the term ‘irony’ wasn’t very popular then.

I wasn’t a great husband – I was too busy being a good son, to my mother who had single-handedly brought me up after her husband left her for another woman, when she was barely 17. And Charu’s upbringing was different from mine, but she managed. Towards the end, my mother had grown totally dependent on her. Charu, to her credit, never brought up the small cruelties my mother had inflicted on her. Women!!

I don’t think I was a great father either. It just wasn’t usual in our times for the fathers to spend so much time with the children. It was considered abnormal. I was supposed to be the provider in the family and that was what I did. In my 40 years of service in the bank, I never took a day of sick leave. I took two days off each for Chandru’s wedding and then for Sarvesh’s wedding.

In our household, we didn’t have conversations. The children spoke to their mother sometimes, on politics or movies. If there was something important to be conveyed, it usually came through Charu. But once Nandini joined our household, it was like something had changed. Nandini spoke to Charu about everything. Apparently Charu was very well read – I heard Nandu remarking about it once. Everyday she would make Charu sit down and tell her everything about her day at work. I had to pretend to be watching the news, or reading the newspaper while eavesdropping.

I got to know about Corporates and the work-culture from Nandini. I got to know that pasta and pizza are tasty too and can be made at home – I had never ventured beyond ‘Onion Rava dosa’ at Sangeetha. And apparently, there was something called ‘Slim Fit’ in shirts and it seems pale blue suits me more than boring white. There was a whole world that I had no idea about! And thanks to Nandini, I got to know some part of it. Nandu even tried to make me read some books. I had read my share of Sidney Sheldon and Harold Robbins, but these new generation writers were excellent!

And Charu! It was like she was a flower who had been waiting to bloom. Nandu used to take her shopping and make her wear some sort of flowing shirt – it was a kurti apparently. I had heard only of kurtas. Who would have thought even clothes had a gender! I started seeing my wife in a new light. She was such an intelligent woman and after all these years I felt guilty for refusing to let her work, because my mother did not like it. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, but I couldn’t. I simply wasn’t brought up that way. But I think Charu understood. She had understood my helplessness then and she understood my silent apology later.

These days I am very busy. My role as a grandfather is something I cherish. I didn’t know children could be so much fun. And the intensity of love I feel for them, is frightening sometimes. For someone who was told to keep his emotions to himself all the time, the swelling in my heart when the little ones hugged me or made me a birthday card, was something I had never experienced before!

Vikky, when he was young was quite a handful. He used to crawl into the most unlikely places and taunt all of us. Since feeding them their evening snacks was a duty Nandu had assigned to me, I was forced to strain my creaky joints begging him to crawl out so that I could feed him. He used to play with my glasses and my newspaper would often be in shreds before I could even get to them. But I loved every minute of it.

I wanted to tell Chandru to not make the same mistakes I had made when I was younger. The children – they matter, and the time spent with them – it matters, more than anything else. We still spoke in grunts and monosyllables and I couldn’t convey everything I wanted with them. The day I saw him changing Vikky’s diapers without complaining, I realized I didn’t have anything to tell him.

If I thought Vikky was a handful, Anu was another matter altogether. From the time she could crawl, she had every one of us wrapped around her tiny little finger. If Vikky played with my glasses, Anu liked to play with my moustache. Every waking moment she wanted attention. Even tireless Nandu, couldn’t handle hurricane-Anu and put her in a daycare, amidst loud protests from Charu and me.

“Amma, Appa, both of you need some sleep and rest. This kid is a monster. We need some time off. Besides she will learn something useful in playschool”.

The days of watching news were long gone and all of us had to be sitting around her while she bossed over us. And Charu and I now sang “Wheels on the bus” and “I am a little teapot” when we were immersed in our work.

And our most recent game was Teacher Teacher. Charu told me this was a popular game that was going to last the next 3 to 4 years. Charu was always the student and Anu was always the strict teacher. Vikky was given some honorary position like the art teacher or something, but I was allowed only to watch.

Nandu had to finally intervene that day.

“You have to include Thatha in your game Anu”, she said. “He gets you icecream and chocolates, doesn’t he? Be nice to him”.

“This is a girls school. Boys can’t be students”, she countered.

“Vikky is playing with you?” said Nandu.

“He is only the art teacher”, said Anu.

Vikky tried too. “Can we make him the principal? He can then do nothing and sit in the corner?”

“But why can’t you make him a student?” said Nandu.

“Amma, Thatha doesn’t know anything! How can he be the student? He can be a principal if he wants to. But he has to listen to me”.

So that’s how I became the principal of the school. And yeah, there was one thing everybody in the household agreed with -“Thatha knows nothing”. And my mother was wrong about one thing – only the lucky ones have daughters!