Where we came from…
A First Letter by a first time mother to her baby
Dearest Thea,
This is the story of a time and a place which has passed us, forever.
It was 30 odd years ago, when your grandfather caught an overnight train to reach Katni, a small town in the interiors of India. He arrived panting and worried at your grandmother’s maternal home, where she was visiting then. It had been 10 days since their baby was due, but he had not received a single letter or phone call by way of communication. Your grandmother was simply too pregnant to make the 15 min walk to the nearest phonebooth. They collapsed onto each other, exchanging stories of the last couple of months. I know you find it difficult to imagine a world without mobile phones, especially now that your mother and father remain glued onto their phone screens.
But no worries, for your grandfather had arrived just in time. I was born the next night, in a small clinic of the town’s Lady Doctor.
The lights went out shortly after she had cut your grandmother’s stomach open, with all her brothers and uncles (all thirteen of them) running helter skelter in panic. And that was how your mother came into this world, in the middle of the night, by the flickering light of a few torches and the shaking hands of a lady who was delivering her first caesarean. Everyone rejoiced and hugged the Lady Doctor in gratitude, even though she had been too lazy to get a generator installed in her clinic.
How you came into this world however, is a completely different story. During your time, your mother had many machines strapped onto her arms and stomach, and lay in a swanky suite of one of best private hospitals of Singapore. There was not even a heartbeat which was missed and not even a kick or contraction which went unregistered. The labour lasted longer than expected, and by the time you finally came out, everyone was shaking their heads at the doctor in disappointment. Birth trauma, they all said.
But no matter, for you were born more beautiful than we had ever imagined.
It has been four months since you’ve arrived. There isn’t an animal we cannot find in our house, in its plastic, felt or foam avatar. You know — I too grew up with a couple of animals. I could never touch or eat them, as you do, for they only lived in the depths of my overactive imagination. There was a long green snake which hissed everytime I ran after it with my grandfather’s walking stick. A giant alligator which sunned itself in the balcony. There was even a make belief cow in the backyard, which mooed in objection every time we lit a “havan” to marry off one little cousin to the next. Such were the times, when we played fearlessly with fire. And today, all our electrical sockets have shock proofing on them.
But don’t feel sorry that your mother did not have many toys, my darling, for I assure you, my imaginary friends were livelier and more dynamic than your imported furry ones can ever be. Plus, they never needed batteries to tick.
There were days, however rare, when your mother and all her cousins would dress up in their very best and travel in a cycle rickshaw to the town talkies, to watch the latest Bollywood blockbuster. The show would live on in our minds for days on end, as we cousins recreated and re-enacted the story in ways so cheesy, that even Karan Johar would be put to shame.
But no matter, for your mother ALWAYS played Shahrukh Khan.
Today we all sit fiddling our thumbs with the remote, at a loss of what to watch, for we have burnt through all the movies and tv series Netflix and our tv channels (all 132 of them) have to offer.
I have fond memories of this place called Katni, where I and my cousins spent the most magical summer holidays together. But I do not have the courage to return, for there are no planes or high speed trains which go there. Many of the roads are too narrow for cars. And, there are still power cuts. Neither do any of my cousins. Today, the big ancestral house lays deserted; the roses in the sprawling gardens have been taken over by weeds. Even if we do visit, I doubt we will be able to recreate the magical world we once lived in. And that is how my darling, money can permanently shut the doors to our imaginations.
You see how times change? The world moves faster than we can think. It finds newer and newer ways to win our hearts, but our hearts become smaller and unwinnable.
You will be a product of your times, and I have no foresight, nor likely oversight, over who you will become. But I can only wish three things for you, my baby:
- Create more than you consume
- Don’t ever let money shut the doors to your imagination.
- Lastly, don’t ever forget your mother — no matter how outdated she may become.
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