The Renuion

The Reunion
 

Monday mornings were killing. In fact, heading back to school after the weekend was depressing. On Monday mornings, the classroom resembled a fish market. A variety of stories floated in the air as classmates exchanged stories of their weekends — each story made a little more dramatic with that dash of extra spice to make the mundane interesting!

But for Mishti, weekends were no different than weekdays. Both her parents worked on Saturday and she had no siblings. So her Saturdays were spent in hobby classes, with a few hours of studies and evenings were dedicated to playing with her best friends in the building where she lived. Sunday was the only exciting day of the week for that was when the family went out for a movie followed by dinner or to a family friend’s house. Sunday was the high point of the entire week! The lonely days were probably the reason why the quiet 15-year-old student of class 9 was so well behaved and matured. Mishti had grown to be a youngster particularly sensitive to her surroundings.

But this was a special Monday. Mrs. Sen, their class teacher, was to announce the venue for their annual excursion. And all the girls were busy guessing the venue! Mishti’s class 9-A had forty students. Last year, the entire class — 40 students each from four sections — had gone to the science museum. It had been a very interesting trip for after the visit, the class had a picnic in the huge garden in front of the museum. The girls had played games, eaten amazing food and enjoyed to their heart’s content. This year, the girls were hoping to go to the new park on the outskirts of the city — the latest attraction in the city, inaugurated just a month ago.
But Mrs. Sen’s announcement was greeted by loud moans as her choice of venue threw a gloom on the sunny moods. When the teacher announced that the principal had decided to take the girls to St. Andrew’s Old Age Home for women, the other students were upset. But there was one girl who was thrilled. Something in Mishti rejoiced at the idea of spending a day with old women, though she dared not reveal her happiness to her friends.

The general opinion of the class was that they would have a boring excursion, with no chance to play and enjoy. This attitude visibly upset Mrs. Sen, who blamed the young generation of being insensitive to old people. She warned the class that if their attitude did not change, she would be forced to ask the principal to call off the picnic. This got the desire effect with the class screaming out a loud ‘No’ in unison. Each section was asked to prepare one song, dance or skit to perform before the senior citizens. The initial resentment was lost in the enthusiasm of these preparations. Mrs. Sen had made it compulsory for the whole class to be involved in the presentation. Resultantly, Mishti was entrusted with the responsibility of the mike.

The day of the excursion dawned bright and clear. Two school buses with a total of 160 girls were to go for the excursion. Each bus was assigned with two teachers. While everyone was excited about their performances, Mishti was eager to meet the old ladies.  You see, Mishti had a secret. The little girl yearned for love and affection from grandparents as she had seen her friends receive. Mishti’s paternal grandparents had died before her birth, while her maternal grandparents were citizens of another country and their trips to India were very short. Having seen her best friend being doted upon by grandparents who took her on holidays, dinners, helped with studies, looked  after her when she was ill, bought her gifts, Mishti longed for that affection.

St. Andrew’s Home was located on the outskirts of the city, a 15-minutes drive from the school. Established in 1954 by a group of British nuns based in Kolkata, the home was built on 30 acres of land that had been donated by a rich businessman. The approach to the home was breathtaking. The gates opened to the most picturesque view Mishti had seen in or around the city. The pathway was flanked on both sides with tall palms that rested on a thick carpet of luscious green grass and colourful flower beds. Everyone was awestruck by the beauty, the environment quite contrary to what the girls had expected. The home was as grand as a palace, painted a sparkling white with pale blue windows, the tall and intricately carved wooden spire resembling that of a church. There was peace in the air.

The girls were welcomed into a huge hall under a dome-shaped ceiling, beautifully carved. A part of the hall was designed to function as the reception area, with seating arrangement for guests. The length of the hall was adorned with paintings of Lord Jesus, Mother Mary and Mother Teresa.

Head supervisor Sister Katherine welcomed the young girls to the home. Around 5ft 2inches tall, fair, her round face framed with beautiful ivory locks neatly tied in a bun, Sister Katherine’s eyes shone with love and compassion, her lovely smile touching any soul that met her. With every sentence she spoke beginning with an endearment and praising the lord, she won over many a hearts, including Mishti’s. Sister Katherine led the girls to the dining area where they were seated on benches placed in neat rows along tables; each table could accommodate eight people. There were 10 such rows.

In the dining room, Sister Katherine handed each girl a box of goodies including a cupcake, a vegetable patty, a pack of juice and a small packet of biscuits. Each box was delivered personally, as the head spoke to each student, enquiring about their needs too. Sister Katherine then led everyone inside the church for the morning prayer which had been rescheduled so that the visitors could participate. The church was pristine white with the ceiling covered in a painting depicting The Last Supper. As the prayers began, all present were filled with peace and contentment.

And Mishti’s life headed for a massive change. The young girl who had never gone to a church despite being a Bengali Christian and her mother a devout Christian, the one who never believed in God, was moved to tears — tears of joy and peace as the prayers touched her soul.

Once the prayers were over, it was time to interact with the members of the home. Mrs Sen, who had accompanied the students, divided the girls into groups of four, instructing each group to spend time and interact with one elder till lunch hour. Excited about the chance to interact with youngsters, the elderly women took the children to their rooms as they spoke about their routine, their hobbies, etc. While walking through the corridors of the home, Mishti walked by a door left ajar and saw a woman sitting inside, alone. Around 5 ft 3 inches tall, she had a peaches and cream complexion with big eyes that should have been filled with laughter. But her demeanor was one of aloofness, almost cagey. Mishti was surprised to see this loner when all the other women were enjoying their interaction with the youngsters. The young girl remembered seeing the old lady in church, sitting on the last bench, alone. Why was she in the room? Why was she not interacting with them? Was she unwell? But she looked fine in the church. Was she averse to attention? What was her name? Questions buzzed through Mishti’s mind, plunging her into a zone of discomfort. She made her way towards her group and participated in the events of the day, successfully playing her role in the performances. But as the girls left the home content, leaving behind a group of happy senior citizens, Mishti was carrying home a bundle of unanswered questions, her mind stuck in that room with the lone lady.

Weeks went by and exams were knocking at the door. Mishti was neck-deep in studies, but one thought bothered her daily — that of the old lady at St. Andrew’s Home, the one locked in her own world, in her room. And an idea slowly took root in her young mind.

Exams were finally over and Mishti’s hobby classes closed doors for four weeks for summer break. The weekend after the exams, Mishti took her parents’ permission and went off to visit the residents of St. Andrew’s Home. As she awaited her turn to meet Sister Katherine, the young girl soaked in the peaceful environment as she experienced a different kind of happiness.

Sister Katherine summoned her to her chamber. After the customary greetings, Mishti put forward a request to seeking permission to let her volunteer at the home during the weekends. Touched by her gesture, Sister Katherine readily agreed and the duo decided that Mishti would visit the home every Saturday morning for two hours. Mishti was thrilled — her plan had been set in motion.
 

Mishti woke up early the next Saturday, completed her homework and other assignments that she would have done in the two hours she was to spend at the home. Eager to begin, she reached the home 15 minutes before her appointed time. Delighted with her enthusiasm, Sister Katherine asked her to join them for the morning prayers. Mishti greeted all the residents of the home and went on to occupy the last bench, where the old lady was sitting alone. Mishti greeted her with a smile and a wish but there was no response. Mishti was disheartened; Sister Katherine noticed this. After the prayer, the head supervisor called Mishti to her chamber. “Don’t feel bad about her behavior or take it personally,” said Sister Katherine, adding, “She has been with us for a year and never has anyone seen her smile or interact with another person. She prefers to keep to herself, her only communication is with me and that too, is only related to her work.”
 

Keen to know the reason behind this lonely existence, Mishti pleaded till Sister Katherine gave in and narrated the old woman’s story. “She is Martha,” said Sister Katherine. “Martha was a well settled, pious Christian lady married to Paul, a banker. They had one son Edward, well educated, financially settled and married with two children. All was well till the day Paul died suddenly after a massive heart attack. A distraught Martha was well cared for by her son and daughter-in-law for a year. But gradually, things started to take a turn for the worse. The couple would ill-treat Martha, starve her and verbally abuse her. Martha would bear everything stoically, finding solace in painting. In that one year after Paul’s death, Martha had resumed her hobby of painting and had also planned an exhibition of her works. Trouble started when she shared her thoughts of organizing an exhibition with Edward who said there was no money. The money that came in the form of pension was spent on her medicine, food and clothing, Edward said. When Martha tried to reason with Edward, he slapped her in a fit of rage. He then tied her to a chair and forced her to sign on some documents, snatching her only possession in the world - her flat. Martha was heartbroken.” Where did she get St. Andrew’s Home number from? How did she get there? Who helped her? Even Sister Katherine did not have answers to these questions. The only luggage Martha had brought with her when she arrived at the home was her paintings which she had donated to be adorned on the walls. It was almost a year since Martha got back to her hobby. Something within her had died. She felt soulless. But her story struck a chord with Mishti.
 

Mishti made it part of her weekend visits to sit beside ‘Aunt’ Martha and then complete the work assigned to her for that day. This went on for two weeks. On the last Saturday of the month, Aunt Martha was absent for the prayers. On enquiry, Mishti came to know that Martha had been unwell for two days, battling appendicitis pain; the doctor had said that if the pain failed to subside, she would have to be operated on. Mishti sought permission to visit Aunt Martha. She was granted the same on the condition that if Martha did not want her around, she would leave immediately. Mishti readily agreed. Tiptoeing into the room, she saw Aunt Martha sleeping like a baby. Mishti went over to her bedside and sat on the chair, simply looking at her. Her face was so peaceful, her trademark frown missing. Mishti felt like planting a soft kiss on her forehead, but she held herself back.
 

Mishti visited the home on Sunday, the next day, when she was told that Martha had been hospitalized in the wee hours of Sunday. The operation was scheduled for 10am. Mishti rushed to the hospital, reaching in time to see Martha being shifted to the operation theatre. Mishti requested the nurse to let her stand by the stretcher outside the operation theatre. She took Aunt Martha’s hand in her hand and with her other hand, softly stroked her forehead. Aunt Martha remained oblivious.

The operation was over in an hour’s time. Mishti and one of the nuns from the home decided to remain in the hospital that day till late evening, after which another nun from the home would spend the night with Martha. Aunt Martha regained her senses a little post noon. She moaned softly, her pain causing discomfort. And all the while, Mishti tried to comfort her by stroking her forehead or telling her that she would be fine soon. It was 7pm, time for Mishti to leave. Aunt Martha was in deep sleep. Mishti went up to her, kissed her softly, whispering in her ear that she would see her the next day. She turned around to leave when she felt Aunt Martha’s hand reach out for hers. Mishti swiftly turned to look at Aunt Martha and was stunned to see Aunt Martha with a little smile on her face. Martha thanked her feebly. Mishti rushed to her bedside and hugged her, even as Martha held on to her as if never to let go. At that moment, Martha was a small child, wanting to be loved, to be cared for. The two women shed tears over their joy in the unique bond.

In the following weeks, Mishti would visit the home every alternate day, sitting for hours with Aunt Martha who was well on the path of recovery. Mishti and Martha got along like a house on fire. While Mishti shared her secrets with the older lady, Martha would pour out her heartbreak to the attentive young ears. Somewhere, the two lonely women gradually became each other’s emotional companions and anchors, shedding their inhibitions to reveal their true selves. Mishti’s company had made Martha much more approachable; she had started interacting with the other members of the home.

On December 1, the home was abuzz with activity. It was Aunt Martha’s birthday and Mishti had planned a surprise party for her. The party was to be held in the dining area which was decorated with balloons and festoons. Mishti had baked a chocolate cake especially for Aunt Martha who had once revealed it was her favourite. Mishti had spent the entire afternoon decorating the place. In the evening, when Aunt Martha walked into the dining room, all the residents of the home, including the sisters and the staff, sang the birthday song for her. Aunt Martha was speechless; she was touched by the warm surprise. But the biggest surprise was her birthday gift. On behalf of the residents and management of the home and herself, Mishti presented Aunt Martha with canvas, some brushes, an easel and a box of paints. Aunt Martha did not know how to react. She stood like a statue as tears of joy blurred her eyesight. Aunt Martha hugged Mishti and kissed her forehead softly. A bond was strengthened.

Years passed by and Mishti and Aunt Martha’s bond grew thicker with each passing day. Mishti was the granddaughter that Aunt Martha never had, and Aunt Martha was the grandmother Mishti longed for. It was a most beautiful reunion.