If you haven’t shown some love already to the first parts of this story,
please consider part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
Rima was still in tears, looking out of the window. Rajesh viewed his mother as a strong lady. She lost her husband at a very young age with a child. She married another man upon the condition of not having a child again. She was worried that Rajesh might not have a life if another child came between them. She cared for her son more than anything and wanted him to have the best in his life. He joined the best school in their neighbourhood in Singapore.
For his degree, he was enrolled at the National University of Singapore. He was studying computer science and was in his final year. Devendran said that the internet was the next big thing in the coming millennium and Rajesh would have better prospects studying computers for his career in the early 2000s. After all, Devendran was a man of knowledge and wisdom. He obtained a master’s degree in business administration from IIM Ahmedabad with a gold medal. Having studied in a reputed institution, he was able to work in several countries before settling in Singapore.
Devendran’s decision to marry the young widow was a story of a fated mistake. After constant struggles, Devendran’s mother, Devukutty, persuaded her son to get married. She had arranged multiple marriage brokers to find a suitable bride for her son. Alongside, Rima’s parents were also searching for a groom since the death of her husband. The broker accidentally showed Rima’s photograph to Devendran who liked her at the very first sight. Before the broker could tell him that she was a widow with a young son and that he should not settle for someone like that, it was too late. Devendran had already made up his mind. Knowing the adamant nature of his son, Devukutty only wanted the horoscopes of the couple to match. As destined, theirs was a perfect match of horoscopes. Devendran and Rima married each other and started a new chapter of their life together with Rajesh. They have been a happy family since.
The thoughts of the fallen mango tree had already taken Rajesh to his past. As he began to delve deeper, he could see his roots getting visible. Only then did he realize how long he had travelled away from them. Last summer, Rajesh interned at a reputed company in England. On his way back to Singapore, he managed to stay with his Achachan in Kerala for a couple of days.
It was an evening and the summer heat was receding to the night when Rajesh opened the gate. The soothing air filled his lungs which still had the debris from the city life of England. Achachan was seated on the veranda eating a mango. It was a big ripened one that when he sliced it into pieces, the steel plate was full.
Achachan’s dyed hair was combed back and he had styled his moustache down. He had never kept a beard; he maintained a well-groomed face. His hairline had receded and his face had added more wrinkles than the last summer. Wearing a blue checkered lungi, he was seated on his long armchair. He was not wearing any shirt and his giant belly protruded into space. As a child, Rajesh used to ask, “Achacha, when will the baby come out of your belly?”
To that, he would laugh hard. Rajesh could remember that laugh. Achachan had no teeth. He laughed revealing his gums and there was a beauty in it. After all, one does not get to see people laughing, flaunting their gums and shaking their bellies often. It was a sight to cherish, and a memory to adorn.
“See that tree. This mango is from that”
Achachan pointed at the youngest mango tree in the yard. It was not tall and its width was the size of his two palms. It stood there without taking much space, yet it earned all the attention. When Achachan bought that land, it had two mango trees and three jackfruit trees. In addition to that, he planted coconut and arecanut trees between them. The plantains were left to grow on their own choice. The pepper vine climbed on every tree it could.
He also added numerous types of ornamental plants along the sides of the path which led to the house from the gate. There were plants which never flowered but had beautiful leaves. Achachan managed to get them from the houses he had visited. He had a habit of collecting plants which he found interesting. After every visit to his friends’ or relatives’ houses, he had a habit of bringing back some plants to fill his land. It was his way of building memories. Every plant in his yard had a story to tell: from where it travelled and how it reached there. There were also plants with magenta leaves and one with linear-shaped leaves that had a good mix of yellow and green shades. Many of the leaves looked painted.
The green bushes on the sides were maintained to a height of two feet. Achachan cut and shaped them using his giant scissors. He had not allowed Devendran to touch the scissors as a child. Hibiscus plants acted as the fence and surrounded the yard. The Java apple tree in the yard will be full of Java apples that are pink in colour in December. Rajesh used to climb the tree and pluck as much as he pleased to eat. On the west of the house, a scramberry tree stood overwhelmed with its small reddish fruits. Rajesh was told that it is called the ‘Batoka plum tree’ in Singapore.
And then, there was one mango tree — the one which Achachan had planted himself. It flowered for the very first time that summer. However, only one fruit was produced. When it ripened, Achachan himself plucked it and ate it. He had the satisfaction of eating the fruit of his own labour.
to be continued…
Achachan- Grandfather
