Amma

“Ish….”

The crowd gathered in the lobby hissed at the extraordinary sight that unfolded before their eyes.

The dazzling silver-grey Audi cruised down the posh area of Cenotaph Road and waited impatiently for the gates to be opened by the watchman. The mammoth gates allowed the vehicle to slither down the pathway that led to a portico in front of the bungalow. The plush interiors of the new car disgorged an unusual woman who hurriedly climbed up the short flight of steps and scuttled inside the house. The brief sight of the woman in a humble and tattered saree, a huge bindi and long, black hair tied haphazardly into an unimpressive bun conveyed the impression that she came from an indigent background. But how was a chauffeur-driven, new vehicle sent to pick her up? And the confidence with which she strode into the house revealed that she was familiar with the influential family living there.

Bhanumati moved the heavy curtains aside and rushed inside the room, the centre of which had a four-poster bed in which lay a septuagenarian covered with a sheet. A nurse stood beside him examining the IV bottle that hung from a stand. Beside him on a chair sat ‘Amma’, looking elegant and in control of the situation as always.

“Amma! What happened to Ayya?” queried Bhanumati who flung herself at Amma’s feet and started sobbing loudly. “I will not allow anything to happen to him. Take my life, if you want. But please save him…..”

Amma lifted Bhanumati by her shoulders and quietly led her out of the room. Once outside she said, “Bhanumati! Control yourself! We are doing everything to save him. Come on now, everyone has been kept waiting. Let us begin the lunch!”

Tables and chairs were placed outside the house in the huge garden where the motley crowd of people milling outside were made to sit one by one. Bhanu was given a special seat at the first table. She was seen using her pallu to wipe her tears and whimpering through the meal. The food was lavish with several varieties of dal, vegetables, rice, rotis and Indian sweets. After the meal, Bhanu stood at the centre of the garden along with Amma and distributed sarees and dhotis as well as dresses to the people assembled as they filed out of the house one by one with the gifts.

“This event happens every year during Rohit Baba’s birthday!” explained driver Shubojit Das to watchman Ajit Yadav who had joined recently, “And every year, this mysterious woman is brought here in style and dropped back with chockfull of gifts.”

“I am surprised how such influential people can ‘mix’ with someone who appears to hail from a poverty-stricken background as this woman!” exclaimed Ajit, surprised and started tasting the hot jalebis from his plate.

This time, however, it appeared as though Bhanumati had decided to stay back. She placed her arm under her head and tried to sleep outside Ayya’s room but was gently admonished by Amma and taken to a guestroom and shown a cot to sleep on.

Amma sat in a recliner placed next to her bed and tried to rest her tired eyes. Sleep had eluded her for the past few weeks. In fact, she had never had a real good sleep since that fateful night of 17 May 2010 when the catastrophe of the worst kind wrecked their lives forever.

***

Life had been a roller-coaster for Advaitha who nodded ‘yes’ just after one look at the hesitant young man who had come to ‘see’ her with his parents. Despite the conventional ritual, both the families nurtured modern views and hailed from exemplary backgrounds of bureaucrats and educationists. Sundar IPS was the scion of a civil servant who was glaring at the young damsel with a stern look. Advaitha’s mischievous mind named it the ‘ICS look’. She cast her eyes at the woman with a cherubic face which threw a spectrum of colours from the diamonds on her ears and nose. The mother-in-law would-be seemed innocuous and in fact a jolly good woman. Sundar’s astonished countenance revealed he felt lucky that his parents had arranged a remarkably beautiful and educated girl for him. IPS did have other fringe benefits.

Advaitha put her education and philanthropic strivings to good use wherever she set foot in different IPS abodes along with her husband. She encouraged women in the rural areas to take-up self-employment or entrepreneurship and personally arranged funding for their enterprises. Little girls and boys were sent to school and alcoholic husbands were reprimanded by their wives when they returned home drunk. The women followed the instructions of ‘Amma’, which she came to be called by everybody fondly. Amma’s “Hum Foundation” involved villagers in community building and actively pursued attitudinal and behaviour modification among the rural folks. With foresight she had long since begun her campaign for clean toilets, schools for children, campaign for education of the girl child, hygiene and health for mothers and infants and other endeavours that helped bestow dignity of existence and respectable living. Sundar IPS did not object to the droves of people, especially women and children who thronged their house everyday. Rohit, their only son grew up surrounded by people all the time.

The couple decided to put him in a boarding school in a hill station so that he would not be neglected while they were each busy with their work. The boy visited his home during holidays and loved to accompany his father in the jeep sometimes, deep into the jungles of Chhattisgarh or spent time spinning top and playing lattu with the village boys. Rohit grew up learning to respect all without any discrimination, much like his parents.

***

Amma’s subconscious suddenly unleashed the repressed memories of the gory events of April and May 2010. Sundar IPS was selected to handle the guerrilla warfare by the Maoists and Naxalites in Chhattisgarh. ‘Operation Green Hunt’ was the name the police had coined to describe this all-out offensive against the Naxalites.

Since November 2009 when the operation began, Advaitha languished in insecurity, which she did not outwardly disclose. Everyday she worried about her husband’s safe return. Hum Foundation now took up resuscitation work of the civilians and police personnel affected by Maoist attacks in collaboration with the humble medical centers in the rural areasand the modest hospitals in Bilaspur.

On the fateful day of 6 April 2010 Naxalite rebels killed 74 CRPF personnel and two policemen, wounding fifty others in a series of attacks on security convoys in Dantewada district, a sparsely populated and under-developed area and a nerve centre of the Naxalite-Maoists. Sundar IPS was grappling with the aftermath of this incident camping at Dantewada. Rohit had come home for the summer vacation and he busied himself helping out his mother to deal with the medical exigencies of a large number of wounded persons. They too stayed in the Dantewada camp. The undercurrent of tension continued to prevail till matters came to a head on 17 May.

Amma’s body convulsed as body-wracking tremors coursed through her and the incidents of 17 May 2010 surfaced in her memory.

There had been a lull the past few days and Advaitha decided to venture out to get some necessities for the patients. Along with a few care-givers and Rohit, she boarded the only bus that plied between the village and the nearest town which had a pharmacy. The bus was teeming with people and its carrier on top was brimming with baggage of all kind.

It took just a few seconds to transform this humble rural scenario into a horrific one that shook the entire nation. As the bus was skirting the roads, fifty km away from Dantewada, it hit a landmine and there was a huge explosion.The vehicle was ripped apart and it spewed out a slew of burning body parts and pieces of destroyed luggage all around. Advaitha was thrown far away from the bus. As she sensed intense pain in her legs she forced herself to sit up on the ground and her eyes frantically searched for Rohit. Amidst the haze and smoke that filled up the area near the bus, she spotted the silhouette of her little boy who was searching for his mother. His eyes rested on her and he heaved a sigh of relief. As he ran toward her, he spotted a little infant that seemed to be alive and crying. Rohit bent and picked up the infant when the rest of the bus exploded into smithereens killing him instantaneously. The child however escaped miraculously as Rohit had held it close to his bosom and fell down with his body covering the infant. The infant’s cries rent the air in the backdrop of the crackling and popping sounds of the fire and the groans of humans in pain. The gory night stood testimony to the most insensitive act of humans.

Shocked and numbed into silence, Advaitha watched her son dying in front of her eyes as her consciousness gave way to darkness. Even in death, Rohit had kept their family value alive, saving the life of a child.

The next day when Amma got up, her face was streaked with dried tears that were a tribute to the souls which had reached the Elysian Fields on that fateful night of May 2010.

***

Sundar IPS returned to his duties soon after he performed the last rites of his only son. He continued the operations contributing to its success in a big way. When he retired, the couple decided to shift base to Chennai, their hometown, where Sundar’s father had left a colossal bungalow for them in the heart of the city. Not used to living in such opulence, the couple planned to move out to a more humble abode but Amma’s mother-in-law who was now living with them, did not give her consent. Right in the middle of the commodious living room in the centre of the innerwall and looking at the main door was a huge garlanded photograph of a smiling Rohit.

Amma continued with the activities of Hum Foundation and she became actively engaged in promoting the Self-Help Groups that were gaining popularity in the state. During one of her medical camps in a neighbouring village, there was a commotion outside her room where she was holding a meeting. The security personnel were trying to ward off a dishevelled woman who was wailing loudly and calling out to Amma. Amma asked the watchmen to bring the woman inside. As soon as she was let in, Bhanumati flew across the room and fell at Amma’s feet. Holding her legs tightly she started lamenting incoherently. Amma bid her to sit on a chair and gave her a cup of tea they had been sharing. She asked the woman to calm down and narrate the matter.

Upon this Bhanumati broke down again and starting tugging at Amma’s hand. “Come with me at once madam. They are attacking my husband. I went to the police station, but they refused to help. They threw me out. We are Dalits and have nobody to help us. My husband’s life is in danger,” her cries rent the air as the men around tried to drive the woman away. Amma stopped them with just a stern look. She took Bhanu’s hand and mounted the jeep that was used by her to commute to rural areas. A cloud of dust had enveloped the front of the hut and through the haze of dust Amma and others could witness the departing miscreants who had iron rods, knives and other dangerous implements held aloft.

With trepidation they got down from the vehicle and entered the hut only to witness a gory scene where Ezhumalai was lying in a pool of blood and both his legs were chopped off below the knees. Bhanumati gave a loud scream and fell on her husband who was writhing in pain and trauma. Amma ordered her men to pick up the wounded man and his legs and drove him to a hospital in the nearest town. Despite their best efforts, Ezhumalai’s legs could not be saved and he ended up being a cripple. Amma arranged for his continuing care and a wheel-chair for him to move around. She took Bhanumati under her wings and trained her to produce organic manure, fertilizers, seeds and other farm products. During the past year, Bhanumati had stabilized and she was making good profits. For her, meeting Amma that rainy evening on the day of Janmashtami had been a turning point. She was now able to live an independent life, free from fear of discrimination and was able to send her two children to good schools in the town.

Every year Amma sent for her on Rohit’s birthday and she made it a point to be a part of the event without fail.

***

But this time, the situation was different. Sundar Ayya had not been keeping well due to complications from diabetes. He had started neglecting his health after retirement and seemed listless and depressed. Repressed memories of the tragic death of their only son whipped up a late reaction and slowly pushed him down an abyss from which he could not emerge. Amma tried various ways to keep Sundar active and free his mind from the web of bygone memories. However, she realized that something had just given away permanently in her man’s heart that had carried her and the memories of their son all these years. Her man was silently giving up and Amma who offered succour and support to distressed people could do nothing for the man who had given her a wonderful life filled with love and respect.

“Amma! I have a suggestion to make,” Bhanumati said hesitantly the next morning. She had made up her mind not to leave for her hometown without finding a solution to Ayya’s health.

“I want you to test me and my husband to find a match for Ayya’s kidney!” she said forcefully. Amma lifted her eyebrows as she was preparing to go with Sundar to the hospital for his dialysis.

“I will not go away till you say yes to this! Why are you silent? Is it wrong to take a kidney from a dalit? Please answer me!”

Amma looked at her with a pained expression in her eyes. “Bhanu! You have the habit of babbling anything that comes to your mind. How can you talk to me like this? I have never considered anyone less worthy of respect and love. I cannot accept your offer. I am sure we will soon find someone willing to donate.”

Bhanumati was adamant. She sat down blocking the entourage getting ready to go to the hospital. “Give me a good reason for your refusal. Why don’t you want to test me for my kidney? Or my husband, who in anycase is confined to a wheelchair and would not mind parting with one of his kidneys.”

“Bhanu! Don’t behave like a child now. I will speak to you when I come back after Ayya’s dialysis. You have your lunch and rest.” Amma left with Ayya on a stretcher accompanied by his nurse.

As dusk was giving way to night and a multitude of stars started dotting the sky, Bhanumati sat down at Amma’s feet. Amma was sitting on the swing in the terrace outside their bedroom keeping a watchful eye on Ayya and also relaxing her tired body savouring the evening breeze that carried a whiff of blooming jasmine from their garden below. Bhanu had been crying all day.

“Bhanu! Don’t be adamant. You are the only one who is taking care of your family. You need to be healthy and active for the sake of your children who are doing well in their studies. Your husband needs you. Moreover, you have grown as an entrepreneur now and your employees need you. In every possible way, you cannot be disturbed.”

“I am sure I would be able to carry on all my responsibilities with one healthy kidney. Moreover, you have not even taken me for testing my kidney. I will come with you to the hospital tomorrow and get tested.”

Amma looked annoyed and finally said,“Bhanumati! I cannot accept your offer because it is unethical. I cannot trade your health for whatever support I have extended to you during the past years. If I do this, it will set a bad precedent and incite people to bargain for their philanthropic efforts. Upholding human values is more important than self-preservation.” Amma then called her driver and asked him to drop Bhanu at the railway station. As usual she went home with plenty of gifts for her family.

Amma entered her bedroom silently. The mild snoring of her husband was reassuring.  The night-lamp threw a shadow of the nurse who was curled up in a chair near the bed. She had set an alarm to check his sugar and the IV bottle.

Tomorrow Amma would hasten her efforts to find a match for his kidney.  She was awaiting a mail from his cousin from Canada.

Amma felt drained of energy. After all, she too was nearing seventy and had led more than an active life witha mind shrouded by sadness. She sat in her recliner. Her legs ached. She slowly lifted her saree and petticoat and removed the belts that strapped the Jaipur feet to both the stumps of her legs. She removed one artificial leg after the other and placed them in their box below the bed. These legs had carried her through a long and arduous journey of life. Perhaps they could last just a little longer. Amma’s work in the world is not yet over. There are many who need her help. There’s still some time before she can hold her son to her bosom.