The Music of Solitude by Krishna Sobti

Author:Krishna Sobti
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: null
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers India
Published: 2019-02-25T16:00:00+00:00

eight

Every evening a flock of the elderly comes to this small garden, first to walk and then to chat. Thanks to the Delhi Development Authority. People are grateful for the carpet of green grass in this tiny garden, for the beds of flowers, and the creepers. But for this pleasant little patch, they would find themselves gazing at a concrete jungle. Here, at least, a fresh wind blows. Tiny flowers adorn the garden like embroidery. Their presence is delightful. There is pleasure because there is air, there’s sunshine, there’s water. There’s green on the earth and breath throbbing in this body.

We’re old, no doubt, but we’re not devoid of zest. We step out of the house, we buy all kinds of vegetables and fruit and return to the lap of our families, which we reared with our toil.

To have been relieved of work and toil and to enjoy domesticity … This is the pleasure of being alive. The pleasure of being with the family is great, in spite of occasional rudeness, disobedience and indifference glimpsed in the eyes of sons and daughters-in-law. There is peace in the heart because everyone is together. Whether the shares go up or fall. That worry has its own upside and downside.

How refreshing, how valuable this span of time. Sitting on a bench and chatting, it doesn’t feel like the sum total of one’s labour and one’s earnings has slipped out of one’s grasp. That bundle is still attached to one’s person. Quite another matter, that within the family, our rights have shrunk, and ‘yes’ and ‘no’ are now used with caution. In old age, freedom of choice becomes half or even a quarter of what it once was. One has to respect the wishes of sons and daughters-in-law. They should live the way they want to. Why should we go on issuing edicts?

Ignoring what we’ve said, not meeting our eyes, reminding us of our faults and errors— all this is part of family life … But in our last years, how good it is to hear our grandchildren say Dadu, Dadda, Dadaji.

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