PARENTAL BONDING
Anjali had to wait for almost three years after marriage, before the twins arrived; within two minutes of each other. Unlike twins, both the boys were quite different from each other in looks, weight and other physical features. But they were both cute, cuddly, fair-complexioned, with lot of hair on the head, and appeared to be quite alert for newly-born. Her husband, his parents and her parents too who had come from far-off Uttar Pradesh on the occasion, were all on seventh heaven for the bonanza of getting two sons and grandsons at one go, respectively.
Both the boys grew up fast into an adorable pair, and the gaze of passers-by would compulsively turn to the occupants of the pram when they were being taken for an outing by their attendant. They were in great demand by the neighbours who would occasionally take them to their homes to play with them. Naturally, the mother was highly protective of them, and would not readily agree to part with them against such requests; but when her mother-in-law offered to take the elder one (by virtue of having arrived two minutes earlier) to Delhi for a month, where the kids’ grandpa was working, she could not say ‘no’. The girl was stressed too much looking after two babies, and was not averse to a break, particularly because this boy was singularly attached to the grandmother. After fifteen days, Anjali could not bear the separation, and the elder lady was summoned back with the baby.
When the boys were four years old, the family including the grandparents decided to have a short holiday in the United States of America, courtesy some relatives and friends in that country. They travelled across USA with the toddlers in arms or on the strollers, seeing almost all the sights to be seen, and were duly dazzled by the highly developed and beautiful country, with almost limitless opportunities for advancement of the ambitious entrepreneur. Anjali’s husband took a spot decision, kept strictly to himself to start with, to move over to the Mecca of the adventurous to try his luck, whatever the consequences. On return to India, he scaled down his well established business, handed over the reins to his youngest brother, and left for the El Dorado with only a few thousand dollars in his pocket. Helped by a relative and his friends in the US, he could establish a foothold, and called his wife and kids also after about one year. The family took residence in the state of Texas, and after four years moved over to Virginia, next door to Washington DC, where Anjali’s husband started his own business.
The boys continued to retain roots in the country of their birth, speaking fluent Hindi and grew up to healthy and active adolescence. They were quite serious about their studies even in the changed environment. Both were devoted to their parents, who in turn were extremely attached to the children, as are most of the Indians settled down in the USA. The father had to spend lot of time to nurture his business, but the mother who was whole time tending to the boys, could not bear to be away from them even for a few hours. Elder boy was a wizard in Mathematics, and the younger one developed an excellent command of English language; with the result that he gained admission to TJ School (Thomas Jefferson School), one of the most prestigious institutions of US. Both graduated from school education this year, and due to their excellent scholastic achievements, got admitted to the best universities of the country for professional degree courses. They were seen off to their respective colleges at Michigan and Illinois by the parents two months ago.
On return home after seeing the children off to the distant places, both the parents started feeling very lonely, particularly the mother, who was housebound all the time – the father, of course, spending most of the time of the day at work. Visualizing the predicament the girl was in, and having experienced such agonies myself in the past, I decided to empathize with Anjali (not her real name), who is my daughter-in-law -- the wife of our first-born. I called her long-distance, and asked her how she is coping up with the loneliness. She replied, sounding cheerful and trying to camouflage the obvious pain she was in, “Well, I am managing somehow. I do not have the heart to go to the boys’ rooms, and these are exactly as they were left by them when they left home. I will not be able to stand the sight of empty rooms, with their clothes, books, paraphernalia and their smell lingering in the air, which only a mother can discern .” I could sense the lump in her throat at this point of time. She however continued bravely. “Their absence sometimes hits me like a rock, and I start feeling absolutely wretched….” With this, she broke off, unable to mouth her words. I felt I had touched a raw nerve. I said, “I understand how you feel. Imagine how we felt like when eleven years ago all four of you suddenly left our home and hearth for distant shores. The happy time we spent with all of you, the laughter of children, the patter of little feet and the pranks they used to play around the house still haunt us from time to time. We realized that you all will now come here only once in a blue moon, as guests. Both I and my wife shed silent tears for days, till time, the biggest healer, dulled the pain of separation. And then two years later, our youngest son along with his wife too went away to the USA to seek a new career.” I was not sure she was still on the line. I said, “Are you still there, dear?” “Yes, Yes, I am listening. Please go on”, she replied. I continued, “If you want to make a straight line drawn on a paper look shorter, the best way is to draw a longer line alongside. And please remember, priorities of an Indian couple undergo a quantum shift once a child is born to them. They start living and dreaming only for the happiness and wellbeing of their offspring; their own wants take a backseat. That is why we did not raise any objections when our two sons expressed their intention of migrating to destinations half-way around the globe. So please start living in the present, and look forward to the boys’ next visit home a few weeks hence.” There was a short pause; after which she said, “ Thank you Papa, I will remember what you have said.” With this, she rang off.
I hope she will be more composed when next time I talk to her.
Author: S.S.Seth
Friday, November 11, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
I And My Drivers
I AND MY DRIVERS
I bought my very first car, a green Fiat, forty one years ago at a price of Rs.19,000. Only three brands of cars were available in India at that time; Ambassador, Standard Herald and Fiat. Whereas the first two brands could be picked up straight off the showroom, one had to wait for five to seven years after registration to get a Fiat car; that was the popularity rating of this brand. But since I belonged to a Public Sector Undertaking, I was entitled to the Central Government quota; so for me the waiting time was only three months. I toured half the country with my small family in this car, thanks to LLTC ( Liberalised Leave Travel Concession) which I was entitled to, till I sold it off fifteen years later for Rs.40,000. Parting with this workhorse was painful, but I had to bid adieu to the green beauty as I had to purchase my first Maruti 800 car which was reputed to be having 80% imported components. Mustering Rs.19,000 in early seventies was absolutely back-breaking for me, but paying off Rs.50,000 for the Maruti was not so much of a pain, as I had to arrange only Rs. 5000 extra, having remitted the booking amount of Rs.5000 for the new car some two years earlier.
Driving a new car is always a pleasure. The controls are smooth, the purr of the engine is intoxicating and you feel the motive power of the vehicle at your touch. As my three sons grew up and could handle the family car on their own, there was always a fight amongst them for the driver’s seat. Eventually they all got the driver’s license, and during family outings I could never get to the steering wheel. The distance to the destination was carefully calculated, divided by three, and the three boys would take turn in covering the distance allotted to them to the best of their driving skill. We could never imagine that we will ever need a professional driver to handle the car. In course of time the three of them moved away to their own work destinations, had their own families to look after, possessed their own motor vehicles, and I was left with a car exclusively to myself. And having retired from the steel plant service, I got a new job with a private company at their Works some twenty eight KM away from my house.
Motoring down to work, and then back home fifty six KM every day was fun to start with, but became a pain after a few days. My employers agreed to give me the services of a professional driver, in addition to the free supply of petrol which I was already getting. The driver allotted to me was a young fellow, a daredevil to the core, who considered my Maruti to be much smaller than what it actually was, and used to maneuver it through impossible nooks and corners. I had a feeling that had my car wings, he would have certainly made it fly high up in the air. Average speed of the car used to be 70 KMPH, notwithstanding the usual potholes on the 2-lane road, herds of cattle ambling on the road every 100 yards, pedestrians and cyclists criss-crossing at will and other motorists trying to overtake us even at this speed. I used to keep my eyes closed, with lips uttering a silent prayer all the time the car was in motion. A month of being driven up and down to work broke my spirits and I requested my employers to withdraw their driver, and let me choose one myself. Another one month went off with me self-driving before I managed to get a driver, who approximately fitted my advertised specifications. This chap was an older man, and as a driver, an exact opposite of his predecessor. I think my sixth sense got him by rebound. He was caution personified. Any obstacle or unexpected obstruction on the road will make him bring the car to a complete halt. The horn switch was his favourite control device, and he would take not less than one hour to cover the 28 KM distance to my destination. I would comfortably go to sleep with him on the wheel, and wake up only when he would nudge me at the end of the journey. The arrangement worked admirably well for close to 18 months till I moved to New Delhi to join another firm.
On return to my home and hearth after a two year sojourn to the National Capital, I started my last innings of active service with a local firm. A colleague of mine named Mr. Banerji was living not much far from my house, and to economize on fuel, we formed a car pool. Three days of the week, I would take my car to the work site, and the other three days, his car would be used, driven by his driver, named Surendra. Surendra appeared to me to be a reasonably good driver, but my colleague’s chatter about his driving skill, or rather the lack of it, and about his uncouth habits was endless. “ Again you have come in chappals? How many times I have told you that driving in this footwear is not permitted?” With this, he would just peel off the prohibited footwear from the hapless driver’s feet, and throw these out of the car. Surendra was made to drive the car barefoot, thereafter. After having lost two pairs of chappals, he got the message, and bought a pair of sturdy boots. On way home after duty hours, we quite often took detours to buy fish and Mishti, of which this colleague of mine was very fond. Both these eatables were taboo to me, as I am pure vegetarian and a diabetic. But the compulsions of car-pooling made me tolerate the extra time spent in the car. This arrangement too got unstuck after one year as Mr. Banerji left for Calcutta (now Kolkata) in search of greener pastures. I took pity on the orphaned Surendra, and took him under my wings.
Surendra proved to be a dependable chap, although not much of a skilled driver, and a little deficient in his aural faculty. We discovered this hearing impairment of his soon enough in spite of his concerted efforts to hide it; and then started giving him some leeway to reassure him of his acceptance in our set-up. It occurred to me that most of the criticism he collected from his previous employer was because of Surendra not being able to properly hear his commands, rather than the lack of finesse as a driver. After about two years, I gifted Surendra to my son to assist him in his business, as a jack-of-all-trades. This guy has now become a valued member of his current employer’s team, the Man Friday for the Organization. I do use his services off and on; but he is no longer my personal driver.
I used to feel quite comfortable at the wheel, but my family members were not sharing my self confidence as a driver. Somehow a boy with a driving license was pushed to me for a driving test, on passing of which he could be attached to me as a full time driver. After having a cursory look at his driving license, I handed over the ignition keys to him, and sat next to him to watch how he drives. The car was moving in a zig-zag pattern, which I thought was the result of the fellow still trying to get the hang of the non-familiar controls. Before I could react to the strange movement of the car, he turned the car left, trying to go up an over bridge; when suddenly a motor cycle coming straight on the road in the same direction rammed head-on the right side of my car. The impact of the collision was so intense that the handle of the bike pierced the front door of the car, making a big hole. The bike rider fell on the road. When he got up, I noticed with a profound shock the policeman’s uniform peeping out of his jacket. As a class I am extremely scared of the khaki uniform, leather belt with the brass insignia, and the black cap which adorn this particular species of humanity. The policeman did a limp-walk for my benefit, and uttered a loud “Aah!”, although I was sure that he was not really hurt much. I offered to take him to the doctor’s clinic for the medical attention and get his bike fixed at my cost. He uttered another “Aaaah!!”, louder than before. I produced a red one thousand rupee note from my pocket, and suggested that may be this amount just could cover the cost of his and his bike’s repair. I saw flash of greed and a flicker of smile on his face. His limp vanished and he stood up to his full height with alacrity. He plucked the currency note from my hand, picked up his bike, turned and vanished down the over bridge. I left the prospective driver standing on the road, didn’t tell him a word, and took my car straight to the garage for repairs. The experiment cost me close to ten thousand bucks. With this, I mothballed the idea of having a personal driver, ever.
With the kids having grown up, their needs of moving from place to place have increased. They have to be taken for coaching classes, to their friends for studies and recreation and sometimes to the school, which is quite far away. Besides, a handy-man is needed for various domestic chores which arise from time to time. My son wanted to employ an odd-job-man-cum-driver to meet this demand. No suitable person was available at affordable price, in spite of sustained efforts. However, in late August this year Bhagwan appeared at Bhakta’s door. Ajay Kumar, an experienced driver was hunting for a job, and as he himself revealed, he had visited 25 houses without success. He appeared to be a smart young man, and my son decided to give him a chance. His driving license was verified, a short driving trial taken, and he was asked to report for duty. Again, I was appointed as the official driving-skill inspector, by popular choice. Ajay’s first action as a driver was to check all the CDs lying in the deck-compartment of my car, and take out the only CD with collection of contemporary songs, rest all being CDs of old classical and semi-classical numbers of my choice. He pulled out the MP3 CD of Lata Mangeshkar’s ever-green classics from the deck, threw it on the back seat with disdain, and inserted his chosen CD in the player. I brought down the ear splitting volume of music to a reasonable level, and ordered Ajay to start off the car, and take it to my grandson’s school. I got impressed by his skill at the wheel very soon. He was missing other cars, two-wheelers, pedestrians, bovines, canines and stationary objects by inches, and braking my car hard to make it stop behind the vehicle it was following by a whisker. I could not really see much of his driving feats, as my eyes were mostly shut out of fright. Waiting for the child at the school, I asked Ajay about his antecedents, for we were totally unaware of his bio-data till then. He informed me that he was an orphan, as his parents had died when he was an infant. He was married, and his wife was four months pregnant. He had left his previous job as driver of a school bus, as he did not like the job and particularly, the behavior of his boss. His house is about eleven kilometer from our residence, he informed, and he will have to walk this distance, up and down every day. He has no mobile phone or any other means of communication to remain connected to his sick wife. He is very poor, and just survives eating dry roti and pickles. Within next about ten days we discovered that he was a stark liar, and wanted only to extract from us as much money as possible as advance against his first salary. He had two elder brothers to look after him, he had a good bicycle, two cell-phones, and that he was sacked by his last employer because of irresponsible driving habits. I had by that time paid him Twelve Hundred and Fifty Rupees to let him buy a second hand bicycle, for the treatment of his wife and generally to keep his body and soul together, believing him to be truth incarnate. Meanwhile my car collected testimony of his reckless driving with two dents in the rear; first when he reversed the car without looking back and hitting a parked motor cycle, and second time, braking too hard to avoid a pedestrian while the car following us was not quick enough to stop in time. Things came to a head when he refused my wife’s instructions to water the plants, as he thought this type of work was far below his dignity. Next morning he informed us that he was quitting, as his brother had promised to get him a better paid job; and demanded that we should immediately pay him his arrears. I muttered under my breath, “Good Riddance!” and promptly cleared his accounts.
The present incumbent is named Bunty (not a generic name), and has been employed after lot of tb ( thok-bajao ). He looks to be a safe driver, and an obedient employee. I hope he will last.
I have dwelt on this story in some details to focus at certain precautions to be taken while engaging help for domestic as well as official assignments. I hope my readers will find these of interest, looking to my predicaments as mentioned in preceding paragraphs. These are:
**Never employ a person without references and without scrutinizing his antecedents in depth.
**Don’t entrust your costly assets, your life and that of your near and dear ones to a newcomer without a dry run and sufficient trials in safe environs.
**When the odds are loaded, don’t wait for the second mistake of the incumbent. Take
controls away from him/her immediately.
It is better to be safe than sorry.
Author: S.S.Seth
I bought my very first car, a green Fiat, forty one years ago at a price of Rs.19,000. Only three brands of cars were available in India at that time; Ambassador, Standard Herald and Fiat. Whereas the first two brands could be picked up straight off the showroom, one had to wait for five to seven years after registration to get a Fiat car; that was the popularity rating of this brand. But since I belonged to a Public Sector Undertaking, I was entitled to the Central Government quota; so for me the waiting time was only three months. I toured half the country with my small family in this car, thanks to LLTC ( Liberalised Leave Travel Concession) which I was entitled to, till I sold it off fifteen years later for Rs.40,000. Parting with this workhorse was painful, but I had to bid adieu to the green beauty as I had to purchase my first Maruti 800 car which was reputed to be having 80% imported components. Mustering Rs.19,000 in early seventies was absolutely back-breaking for me, but paying off Rs.50,000 for the Maruti was not so much of a pain, as I had to arrange only Rs. 5000 extra, having remitted the booking amount of Rs.5000 for the new car some two years earlier.
Driving a new car is always a pleasure. The controls are smooth, the purr of the engine is intoxicating and you feel the motive power of the vehicle at your touch. As my three sons grew up and could handle the family car on their own, there was always a fight amongst them for the driver’s seat. Eventually they all got the driver’s license, and during family outings I could never get to the steering wheel. The distance to the destination was carefully calculated, divided by three, and the three boys would take turn in covering the distance allotted to them to the best of their driving skill. We could never imagine that we will ever need a professional driver to handle the car. In course of time the three of them moved away to their own work destinations, had their own families to look after, possessed their own motor vehicles, and I was left with a car exclusively to myself. And having retired from the steel plant service, I got a new job with a private company at their Works some twenty eight KM away from my house.
Motoring down to work, and then back home fifty six KM every day was fun to start with, but became a pain after a few days. My employers agreed to give me the services of a professional driver, in addition to the free supply of petrol which I was already getting. The driver allotted to me was a young fellow, a daredevil to the core, who considered my Maruti to be much smaller than what it actually was, and used to maneuver it through impossible nooks and corners. I had a feeling that had my car wings, he would have certainly made it fly high up in the air. Average speed of the car used to be 70 KMPH, notwithstanding the usual potholes on the 2-lane road, herds of cattle ambling on the road every 100 yards, pedestrians and cyclists criss-crossing at will and other motorists trying to overtake us even at this speed. I used to keep my eyes closed, with lips uttering a silent prayer all the time the car was in motion. A month of being driven up and down to work broke my spirits and I requested my employers to withdraw their driver, and let me choose one myself. Another one month went off with me self-driving before I managed to get a driver, who approximately fitted my advertised specifications. This chap was an older man, and as a driver, an exact opposite of his predecessor. I think my sixth sense got him by rebound. He was caution personified. Any obstacle or unexpected obstruction on the road will make him bring the car to a complete halt. The horn switch was his favourite control device, and he would take not less than one hour to cover the 28 KM distance to my destination. I would comfortably go to sleep with him on the wheel, and wake up only when he would nudge me at the end of the journey. The arrangement worked admirably well for close to 18 months till I moved to New Delhi to join another firm.
On return to my home and hearth after a two year sojourn to the National Capital, I started my last innings of active service with a local firm. A colleague of mine named Mr. Banerji was living not much far from my house, and to economize on fuel, we formed a car pool. Three days of the week, I would take my car to the work site, and the other three days, his car would be used, driven by his driver, named Surendra. Surendra appeared to me to be a reasonably good driver, but my colleague’s chatter about his driving skill, or rather the lack of it, and about his uncouth habits was endless. “ Again you have come in chappals? How many times I have told you that driving in this footwear is not permitted?” With this, he would just peel off the prohibited footwear from the hapless driver’s feet, and throw these out of the car. Surendra was made to drive the car barefoot, thereafter. After having lost two pairs of chappals, he got the message, and bought a pair of sturdy boots. On way home after duty hours, we quite often took detours to buy fish and Mishti, of which this colleague of mine was very fond. Both these eatables were taboo to me, as I am pure vegetarian and a diabetic. But the compulsions of car-pooling made me tolerate the extra time spent in the car. This arrangement too got unstuck after one year as Mr. Banerji left for Calcutta (now Kolkata) in search of greener pastures. I took pity on the orphaned Surendra, and took him under my wings.
Surendra proved to be a dependable chap, although not much of a skilled driver, and a little deficient in his aural faculty. We discovered this hearing impairment of his soon enough in spite of his concerted efforts to hide it; and then started giving him some leeway to reassure him of his acceptance in our set-up. It occurred to me that most of the criticism he collected from his previous employer was because of Surendra not being able to properly hear his commands, rather than the lack of finesse as a driver. After about two years, I gifted Surendra to my son to assist him in his business, as a jack-of-all-trades. This guy has now become a valued member of his current employer’s team, the Man Friday for the Organization. I do use his services off and on; but he is no longer my personal driver.
I used to feel quite comfortable at the wheel, but my family members were not sharing my self confidence as a driver. Somehow a boy with a driving license was pushed to me for a driving test, on passing of which he could be attached to me as a full time driver. After having a cursory look at his driving license, I handed over the ignition keys to him, and sat next to him to watch how he drives. The car was moving in a zig-zag pattern, which I thought was the result of the fellow still trying to get the hang of the non-familiar controls. Before I could react to the strange movement of the car, he turned the car left, trying to go up an over bridge; when suddenly a motor cycle coming straight on the road in the same direction rammed head-on the right side of my car. The impact of the collision was so intense that the handle of the bike pierced the front door of the car, making a big hole. The bike rider fell on the road. When he got up, I noticed with a profound shock the policeman’s uniform peeping out of his jacket. As a class I am extremely scared of the khaki uniform, leather belt with the brass insignia, and the black cap which adorn this particular species of humanity. The policeman did a limp-walk for my benefit, and uttered a loud “Aah!”, although I was sure that he was not really hurt much. I offered to take him to the doctor’s clinic for the medical attention and get his bike fixed at my cost. He uttered another “Aaaah!!”, louder than before. I produced a red one thousand rupee note from my pocket, and suggested that may be this amount just could cover the cost of his and his bike’s repair. I saw flash of greed and a flicker of smile on his face. His limp vanished and he stood up to his full height with alacrity. He plucked the currency note from my hand, picked up his bike, turned and vanished down the over bridge. I left the prospective driver standing on the road, didn’t tell him a word, and took my car straight to the garage for repairs. The experiment cost me close to ten thousand bucks. With this, I mothballed the idea of having a personal driver, ever.
With the kids having grown up, their needs of moving from place to place have increased. They have to be taken for coaching classes, to their friends for studies and recreation and sometimes to the school, which is quite far away. Besides, a handy-man is needed for various domestic chores which arise from time to time. My son wanted to employ an odd-job-man-cum-driver to meet this demand. No suitable person was available at affordable price, in spite of sustained efforts. However, in late August this year Bhagwan appeared at Bhakta’s door. Ajay Kumar, an experienced driver was hunting for a job, and as he himself revealed, he had visited 25 houses without success. He appeared to be a smart young man, and my son decided to give him a chance. His driving license was verified, a short driving trial taken, and he was asked to report for duty. Again, I was appointed as the official driving-skill inspector, by popular choice. Ajay’s first action as a driver was to check all the CDs lying in the deck-compartment of my car, and take out the only CD with collection of contemporary songs, rest all being CDs of old classical and semi-classical numbers of my choice. He pulled out the MP3 CD of Lata Mangeshkar’s ever-green classics from the deck, threw it on the back seat with disdain, and inserted his chosen CD in the player. I brought down the ear splitting volume of music to a reasonable level, and ordered Ajay to start off the car, and take it to my grandson’s school. I got impressed by his skill at the wheel very soon. He was missing other cars, two-wheelers, pedestrians, bovines, canines and stationary objects by inches, and braking my car hard to make it stop behind the vehicle it was following by a whisker. I could not really see much of his driving feats, as my eyes were mostly shut out of fright. Waiting for the child at the school, I asked Ajay about his antecedents, for we were totally unaware of his bio-data till then. He informed me that he was an orphan, as his parents had died when he was an infant. He was married, and his wife was four months pregnant. He had left his previous job as driver of a school bus, as he did not like the job and particularly, the behavior of his boss. His house is about eleven kilometer from our residence, he informed, and he will have to walk this distance, up and down every day. He has no mobile phone or any other means of communication to remain connected to his sick wife. He is very poor, and just survives eating dry roti and pickles. Within next about ten days we discovered that he was a stark liar, and wanted only to extract from us as much money as possible as advance against his first salary. He had two elder brothers to look after him, he had a good bicycle, two cell-phones, and that he was sacked by his last employer because of irresponsible driving habits. I had by that time paid him Twelve Hundred and Fifty Rupees to let him buy a second hand bicycle, for the treatment of his wife and generally to keep his body and soul together, believing him to be truth incarnate. Meanwhile my car collected testimony of his reckless driving with two dents in the rear; first when he reversed the car without looking back and hitting a parked motor cycle, and second time, braking too hard to avoid a pedestrian while the car following us was not quick enough to stop in time. Things came to a head when he refused my wife’s instructions to water the plants, as he thought this type of work was far below his dignity. Next morning he informed us that he was quitting, as his brother had promised to get him a better paid job; and demanded that we should immediately pay him his arrears. I muttered under my breath, “Good Riddance!” and promptly cleared his accounts.
The present incumbent is named Bunty (not a generic name), and has been employed after lot of tb ( thok-bajao ). He looks to be a safe driver, and an obedient employee. I hope he will last.
I have dwelt on this story in some details to focus at certain precautions to be taken while engaging help for domestic as well as official assignments. I hope my readers will find these of interest, looking to my predicaments as mentioned in preceding paragraphs. These are:
**Never employ a person without references and without scrutinizing his antecedents in depth.
**Don’t entrust your costly assets, your life and that of your near and dear ones to a newcomer without a dry run and sufficient trials in safe environs.
**When the odds are loaded, don’t wait for the second mistake of the incumbent. Take
controls away from him/her immediately.
It is better to be safe than sorry.
Author: S.S.Seth
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Education Enables
EDUCATION ENABLES
Getting a suitable domestic help in urban areas in India is becoming increasingly difficult. Since we are having a servant quarter to offer to the likely candidate, we were placed in a slightly better position. So when Verma family, husband, wife, a son, a daughter, and a grown up brother of the husband offered to move in, we had an internal debate. Oh! What a large family. They will gobble up our water and electricity resources, and considering that they may have occasional visitors too, our house may become some sort of a serai. Eternal noise, with the rumbustious younger siblings fighting daggers drawn, as is customary, was another issue for consideration. But the family appeared to be neat and clean, with good reputation, as Mr.Verma was known to us for some time as a good and popular sweetmeat maker of the area. The grown up brother was a contract worker in the steel plant, Mr.Verma engaged mostly in his cooking assignments outside the house, children likely to be away in their respective schools, the bespectacled wife who was our main target for being appointed as the maid-in-waiting appearing to be sufficiently dim-witted; this was the combination which could be acceptable inspite of having large number of parts. There being no other alternative available at that point of time, we said, yes, and the crowd marched in pronto. This was some five years ago.
Mr.Verma was totally illiterate. I offered to teach him the Hindi alphabet, as a starter. But he was adamant in not learning, for he considered that he was a good cook only because he was illiterate, and even a rudimentary knowledge of letters will separate him from his art irrevocably. His wife could read and write a little bit of Hindi, but also appeared to subscribe to the theory of proficiency in cooking and literacy being incompatible to each other. We were informed that the children were earlier forced to join the school by their uncle, who himself did not have a formal education, but was an avid reader of Hindi newspapers. This guy appeared to be the most reasonable of the lot. The son, however had a surfeit of his father’s genes and never put his mind to studies. Only the daughter, who was about thirteen years of age, was good in studies and showed some promise in this direction.
After about one year of their having joined us, Mr.Verma started developing ambitions of making it big, and assembled a mobile fast-food stall. The shop became something of a hit in course of time as the quality of fare served was quite good. He borrowed more and more money to keep the joint running, and expanding it further, without knowing how to regulate the growth of his business, or where to stop for a breather. The end result was that he failed to timely repay the instalments on the loans and got into the debt-trap irretrievably. One fine morning after intense pressure was mounted by the loan sharks for repayment, he just disappeared, never to show his face again in this city or anywhere in its proximity. The loan givers pestered his family members for several months, confiscated the mobile cart and then faded away from the scene, realizing that nothing more could be achieved by knocking at our doors. All this time we shielded the Verma family as they were serving us loyally. The maid was working quite sincerely doing all sorts of odd jobs around the house willingly, although she was visually-challenged, and was drawing a princely sum of two hundred and fifty rupees per month from the state government, as compensation. We had developed sympathy and sense of protection for the lady for the misfortune of her husband having deserted her, and for her infirmity. Other family members also were doing their bit in running our household. A sort of equilibrium had thus been achieved. And then suddenly, another bolt from the blue struck the Verma family. The youngest member, the ten-year old boy, could not withstand the pressure of studies and constant exhortation of elders to do better on this front. Following in the footsteps of his father, and having inherited from him the habit of usurping others’ money, he too disappeared to an undisclosed destination with some four thousand rupees in his pocket.
We were all deeply upset, and his mother was simply devastated. She stopped taking any food, and was crying all the time. Her husband who left her about a year and half ago was a grown up man and could take care of himself, but the son was a mere child, she used to tell everybody. Was he able to feed himself? Did he have a shelter over his head? Was he even alive?, she went on thinking on these lines and the thoughts used to be followed by fresh bout of crying. I contacted the local City Superintendent of Police along with an influential friend of mine to lodge a formal complaint about the missing boy, and sought his help in locating the boy. There was no result. I came to know later-on that such complaints are not followed up vigorously as the Police have to handle more serious assignments in their normal work schedule. We did our best to console the maid, but she became something like a zombie, and lost the will to live.
A local shop keeper who is also a family friend of the Vermas brought a good news one day that he had seen the missing boy a day earlier in a nearby town, where he had gone in connection with his business. The boy is working as a waiter in a road-side eatery, he informed, and when he addressed him by his first name, the boy disowned his own name and just bolted from the place. The owner of the eatery was quite helpful and sympathetic, and surprised the boy by arranging a meeting with his mother and uncle next week in his own shop. The boy although cornered, refused to return home, but agreed to remain in touch with his mother by telephone, and occasionally visit her at his convenience. This too was a big relief to the beleaguered mother, as she found her son hale, hearty and happily living his own life; and she came back home quite satisfied.
The girl-child in our psyche is not only a non-asset, but a positive liability. She has to be kept under close supervision lest she goes astray, and married off at the first opportunity. So, why spend money in educating her? Our maid servant was firmly convinced of this philosophy, and didn’t like her daughter studying any further. We tried our best to convince the lady otherwise, giving her several examples, including one from our own close family when the daughter looked after the ageing parents with great love and care till their last days. We even agreed to bear all the expenses of educating her daughter as long as she cared to continue her studies. The mother reluctantly agreed, but the girl was quite enthusiastic about further studies. She passed her class twelve examination in first division last year and then did a course to acquire proficiency in computer application. Her education continues even now for a bachelor’s degree in commerce, and on computer-application, on part time basis. She came to know from her friends that there are many openings for young educated girls in the hospitality sector, in malls which have mushroomed in the state capital during the last few years and in a multinational fast food joint, the branch of which had opened in our neighbourhood recently. She applied for the job, and due to her good educational record and knowledge of computers, she was selected in all the establishments. Both her mother and uncle were quite upset by this development, as once the girl accepts the job, they thought they will lose all control over her, and maybe she could fall in bad company due to lack of their supervision. The girl had by now achieved the age of eighteen, and was mature enough to take her own decisions. She dug her heels in for taking up a job, assisted indirectly by us; and as a compromise formula she was allowed to join the fast-food outlet, which is situated close to our house. The gross salary offered to her in this place was the least of the three options, but still more than the combined take-home pay of the other three earning members of her family.
In a short time, she developed good credibility in her place of work, due to hard work, her basic intelligence, pleasant personality and courteous behavior. Her fast-food shop which was a favourite destination for my grandchildren anyway, became more so because of the personalized care now being given while servicing their order. Orders for supply of food items are being accepted in this joint telephonically, but sometimes we place the order personally also, as the shop is situated close by.
A few days ago, I walked into the shop, and asked the manager to call Miss Verma. The manager who had seen me on earlier occasions also chatting with this girl did not take kindly to this request. He said, “Sir, I will call her, but tell me why you want to meet Miss Verma? And how do you know her?” I liked his protective instinct, as there are a few young girls working in the outlet; and it was good of the guy to feel responsible for them. Meanwhile the girl also came out from inside the shop, and overheard the query of the manager. I could read the concern on her face, as my reply could lead to lowering of her social status amongst her colleagues. I said to the manager, “Son, this young lady shares her residential address with us. Her mother is our governess, and she manages our household. I have come here to place order for some food items.” The manager seemed to be satisfied; and so was the girl, as evidenced by the broad smile on her face. I took the seat at a corner table, waiting for my order to be processed. And having nothing better to do, I started having some random thoughts, with the Vermas centre-stage.
God Almighty has ordained that all features of the universe should have balance, and so should the sex ratio of human race. For every male child born somewhere, a female child also takes birth such that parity is maintained on overall basis. Any act to artificially disturb this balance by termination of pregnancy with female child can upset the societal fabric of the race, and is fraught with grave danger. Still, when a girl child is born in many regions of our country, it is an occasion of great disappointment, particularly when it is the first or subsequent issue. The fact is, and it has been proved time and again, that daughters are more affectionate, devoted, helpful and loving towards other family members, and specially towards the parents. The preferential behavior towards the male child has therefore to end. On the literacy front, the percentage of literates to overall population of India has increased from 12% in the year 1947 to 74% in current year, which is an encouraging figure. But the literacy figures of males and females in the year 2011 are 82% and 65% respectively, which again shows a bias against females. The percentage of formally educated persons, of both sexes, has also to increase exponentially. History has shown that no nation can advance towards leadership position till its citizens, both men and women, are well educated. Unfortunately, in many parts of the world, women are oppressed, kept under wraps, insulated from education and treated as second class citizens. Such societies can never raise their standard of living or make a mark in the comity of nations; in science and technology, in sports, in humanities, in literature, in healthcare or in any branch of human endeavour. For example the nationalities of Nobel laureates or Olympic medal winners can be seen for comparison. It will be found that higher is the level of education, more stellar is the performance. This message has to go down to people, loud and clear.
Suddenly I heard my order number called on the intercom system, loud and clear. I picked up my parcel of food, paid my bill, and made my way home.
Author: S.S.Seth
Published in Daily ‘HITAVADA’ on Sunday, July 17, 2011
Getting a suitable domestic help in urban areas in India is becoming increasingly difficult. Since we are having a servant quarter to offer to the likely candidate, we were placed in a slightly better position. So when Verma family, husband, wife, a son, a daughter, and a grown up brother of the husband offered to move in, we had an internal debate. Oh! What a large family. They will gobble up our water and electricity resources, and considering that they may have occasional visitors too, our house may become some sort of a serai. Eternal noise, with the rumbustious younger siblings fighting daggers drawn, as is customary, was another issue for consideration. But the family appeared to be neat and clean, with good reputation, as Mr.Verma was known to us for some time as a good and popular sweetmeat maker of the area. The grown up brother was a contract worker in the steel plant, Mr.Verma engaged mostly in his cooking assignments outside the house, children likely to be away in their respective schools, the bespectacled wife who was our main target for being appointed as the maid-in-waiting appearing to be sufficiently dim-witted; this was the combination which could be acceptable inspite of having large number of parts. There being no other alternative available at that point of time, we said, yes, and the crowd marched in pronto. This was some five years ago.
Mr.Verma was totally illiterate. I offered to teach him the Hindi alphabet, as a starter. But he was adamant in not learning, for he considered that he was a good cook only because he was illiterate, and even a rudimentary knowledge of letters will separate him from his art irrevocably. His wife could read and write a little bit of Hindi, but also appeared to subscribe to the theory of proficiency in cooking and literacy being incompatible to each other. We were informed that the children were earlier forced to join the school by their uncle, who himself did not have a formal education, but was an avid reader of Hindi newspapers. This guy appeared to be the most reasonable of the lot. The son, however had a surfeit of his father’s genes and never put his mind to studies. Only the daughter, who was about thirteen years of age, was good in studies and showed some promise in this direction.
After about one year of their having joined us, Mr.Verma started developing ambitions of making it big, and assembled a mobile fast-food stall. The shop became something of a hit in course of time as the quality of fare served was quite good. He borrowed more and more money to keep the joint running, and expanding it further, without knowing how to regulate the growth of his business, or where to stop for a breather. The end result was that he failed to timely repay the instalments on the loans and got into the debt-trap irretrievably. One fine morning after intense pressure was mounted by the loan sharks for repayment, he just disappeared, never to show his face again in this city or anywhere in its proximity. The loan givers pestered his family members for several months, confiscated the mobile cart and then faded away from the scene, realizing that nothing more could be achieved by knocking at our doors. All this time we shielded the Verma family as they were serving us loyally. The maid was working quite sincerely doing all sorts of odd jobs around the house willingly, although she was visually-challenged, and was drawing a princely sum of two hundred and fifty rupees per month from the state government, as compensation. We had developed sympathy and sense of protection for the lady for the misfortune of her husband having deserted her, and for her infirmity. Other family members also were doing their bit in running our household. A sort of equilibrium had thus been achieved. And then suddenly, another bolt from the blue struck the Verma family. The youngest member, the ten-year old boy, could not withstand the pressure of studies and constant exhortation of elders to do better on this front. Following in the footsteps of his father, and having inherited from him the habit of usurping others’ money, he too disappeared to an undisclosed destination with some four thousand rupees in his pocket.
We were all deeply upset, and his mother was simply devastated. She stopped taking any food, and was crying all the time. Her husband who left her about a year and half ago was a grown up man and could take care of himself, but the son was a mere child, she used to tell everybody. Was he able to feed himself? Did he have a shelter over his head? Was he even alive?, she went on thinking on these lines and the thoughts used to be followed by fresh bout of crying. I contacted the local City Superintendent of Police along with an influential friend of mine to lodge a formal complaint about the missing boy, and sought his help in locating the boy. There was no result. I came to know later-on that such complaints are not followed up vigorously as the Police have to handle more serious assignments in their normal work schedule. We did our best to console the maid, but she became something like a zombie, and lost the will to live.
A local shop keeper who is also a family friend of the Vermas brought a good news one day that he had seen the missing boy a day earlier in a nearby town, where he had gone in connection with his business. The boy is working as a waiter in a road-side eatery, he informed, and when he addressed him by his first name, the boy disowned his own name and just bolted from the place. The owner of the eatery was quite helpful and sympathetic, and surprised the boy by arranging a meeting with his mother and uncle next week in his own shop. The boy although cornered, refused to return home, but agreed to remain in touch with his mother by telephone, and occasionally visit her at his convenience. This too was a big relief to the beleaguered mother, as she found her son hale, hearty and happily living his own life; and she came back home quite satisfied.
The girl-child in our psyche is not only a non-asset, but a positive liability. She has to be kept under close supervision lest she goes astray, and married off at the first opportunity. So, why spend money in educating her? Our maid servant was firmly convinced of this philosophy, and didn’t like her daughter studying any further. We tried our best to convince the lady otherwise, giving her several examples, including one from our own close family when the daughter looked after the ageing parents with great love and care till their last days. We even agreed to bear all the expenses of educating her daughter as long as she cared to continue her studies. The mother reluctantly agreed, but the girl was quite enthusiastic about further studies. She passed her class twelve examination in first division last year and then did a course to acquire proficiency in computer application. Her education continues even now for a bachelor’s degree in commerce, and on computer-application, on part time basis. She came to know from her friends that there are many openings for young educated girls in the hospitality sector, in malls which have mushroomed in the state capital during the last few years and in a multinational fast food joint, the branch of which had opened in our neighbourhood recently. She applied for the job, and due to her good educational record and knowledge of computers, she was selected in all the establishments. Both her mother and uncle were quite upset by this development, as once the girl accepts the job, they thought they will lose all control over her, and maybe she could fall in bad company due to lack of their supervision. The girl had by now achieved the age of eighteen, and was mature enough to take her own decisions. She dug her heels in for taking up a job, assisted indirectly by us; and as a compromise formula she was allowed to join the fast-food outlet, which is situated close to our house. The gross salary offered to her in this place was the least of the three options, but still more than the combined take-home pay of the other three earning members of her family.
In a short time, she developed good credibility in her place of work, due to hard work, her basic intelligence, pleasant personality and courteous behavior. Her fast-food shop which was a favourite destination for my grandchildren anyway, became more so because of the personalized care now being given while servicing their order. Orders for supply of food items are being accepted in this joint telephonically, but sometimes we place the order personally also, as the shop is situated close by.
A few days ago, I walked into the shop, and asked the manager to call Miss Verma. The manager who had seen me on earlier occasions also chatting with this girl did not take kindly to this request. He said, “Sir, I will call her, but tell me why you want to meet Miss Verma? And how do you know her?” I liked his protective instinct, as there are a few young girls working in the outlet; and it was good of the guy to feel responsible for them. Meanwhile the girl also came out from inside the shop, and overheard the query of the manager. I could read the concern on her face, as my reply could lead to lowering of her social status amongst her colleagues. I said to the manager, “Son, this young lady shares her residential address with us. Her mother is our governess, and she manages our household. I have come here to place order for some food items.” The manager seemed to be satisfied; and so was the girl, as evidenced by the broad smile on her face. I took the seat at a corner table, waiting for my order to be processed. And having nothing better to do, I started having some random thoughts, with the Vermas centre-stage.
God Almighty has ordained that all features of the universe should have balance, and so should the sex ratio of human race. For every male child born somewhere, a female child also takes birth such that parity is maintained on overall basis. Any act to artificially disturb this balance by termination of pregnancy with female child can upset the societal fabric of the race, and is fraught with grave danger. Still, when a girl child is born in many regions of our country, it is an occasion of great disappointment, particularly when it is the first or subsequent issue. The fact is, and it has been proved time and again, that daughters are more affectionate, devoted, helpful and loving towards other family members, and specially towards the parents. The preferential behavior towards the male child has therefore to end. On the literacy front, the percentage of literates to overall population of India has increased from 12% in the year 1947 to 74% in current year, which is an encouraging figure. But the literacy figures of males and females in the year 2011 are 82% and 65% respectively, which again shows a bias against females. The percentage of formally educated persons, of both sexes, has also to increase exponentially. History has shown that no nation can advance towards leadership position till its citizens, both men and women, are well educated. Unfortunately, in many parts of the world, women are oppressed, kept under wraps, insulated from education and treated as second class citizens. Such societies can never raise their standard of living or make a mark in the comity of nations; in science and technology, in sports, in humanities, in literature, in healthcare or in any branch of human endeavour. For example the nationalities of Nobel laureates or Olympic medal winners can be seen for comparison. It will be found that higher is the level of education, more stellar is the performance. This message has to go down to people, loud and clear.
Suddenly I heard my order number called on the intercom system, loud and clear. I picked up my parcel of food, paid my bill, and made my way home.
Author: S.S.Seth
Published in Daily ‘HITAVADA’ on Sunday, July 17, 2011
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