My mother went to her native today and gave my father some anxious moments by not picking her mobile phone even after more than an hour. It seems that the presence of mobilephones has made people more jittery as if they are dependent on the device for signs of security.
Two decades ago we didn't even have a landline in our house and father being involved in so many cultural activities, the time he returned home was never consistent. He also had many friends around and many times he would be talking to them till 8-9 in the night and I wonder if he had thought about his family waiting back home then. There was no way to inform either with no phone in any of the homes in the neighbourhood too. Anyway, I don't think we children worried about it much because we would be asleep by 8 and it was mother who used to complain occasionally but she had resigned herself to this routine.
I was 13 then and those were the days our own house was being constructed, about 200 meters away from the rented house, if you took an imaginary straight path. But we didn't have one in reality and the two routes were longer; the longer one taking the narrow path below Akkamma's house and then next to Machado Sir's house and hitting the tar road in front of the SC/ST hostel and the shorter route circling the paddy fields and then across Marianna's frontyard, risking his ferocious dog Prince which he always let lose. Those days father would typically come home straight from school, then go to the construction site after tea to water the house and then return home around 8. One night I was asleep as usual when my mother woke me up and from the silence around I could guess it was pretty late. She told me father hadn't come home yet and she wanted us to look for him. I had never really seen her alarmed about father before, so it got the sleep out of my eyes immediately. The plan was to lock the sleeping 8 year-old V at home and go out with a torch to the construction site. It didn't strike me to ask my mother why she thought father would be still there at that odd time. May be she didn't know where else to go and I don't know if she had any other thoughts running. Anyway, we set off silently and the night was dark and the mini-jungle around our house was looking darker. We decided to skip the shortcut because there would be snakes in the night and reached Akkamma's house only to be greeted by her dogs. We literally prayed to them not to bark too loudly to get the whole household awake and thankfully they answered. We hit the road hoping to meet father on the way but even till we reached the site there was nobody along the road. But it was obvious father wasn't there too and I even looked into the well! I still remember the relief first and next the embarrassment of even having looked there, when my torch just reflected the water below. We were clueless now and we didn't even exchange a word on our way back, this time risking both Prince and the snakes. My only hope was Mayya Maama, father's friend staying half a km away but thankfully my father saved us that journey. As we reached home, we saw the door was open and my father was standing there sheepishly telling us that he was in Mayya Maama's house all along talking and it got just a bit late. We were too exhausted with relief even to complain.
Two decades ago we didn't even have a landline in our house and father being involved in so many cultural activities, the time he returned home was never consistent. He also had many friends around and many times he would be talking to them till 8-9 in the night and I wonder if he had thought about his family waiting back home then. There was no way to inform either with no phone in any of the homes in the neighbourhood too. Anyway, I don't think we children worried about it much because we would be asleep by 8 and it was mother who used to complain occasionally but she had resigned herself to this routine.
I was 13 then and those were the days our own house was being constructed, about 200 meters away from the rented house, if you took an imaginary straight path. But we didn't have one in reality and the two routes were longer; the longer one taking the narrow path below Akkamma's house and then next to Machado Sir's house and hitting the tar road in front of the SC/ST hostel and the shorter route circling the paddy fields and then across Marianna's frontyard, risking his ferocious dog Prince which he always let lose. Those days father would typically come home straight from school, then go to the construction site after tea to water the house and then return home around 8. One night I was asleep as usual when my mother woke me up and from the silence around I could guess it was pretty late. She told me father hadn't come home yet and she wanted us to look for him. I had never really seen her alarmed about father before, so it got the sleep out of my eyes immediately. The plan was to lock the sleeping 8 year-old V at home and go out with a torch to the construction site. It didn't strike me to ask my mother why she thought father would be still there at that odd time. May be she didn't know where else to go and I don't know if she had any other thoughts running. Anyway, we set off silently and the night was dark and the mini-jungle around our house was looking darker. We decided to skip the shortcut because there would be snakes in the night and reached Akkamma's house only to be greeted by her dogs. We literally prayed to them not to bark too loudly to get the whole household awake and thankfully they answered. We hit the road hoping to meet father on the way but even till we reached the site there was nobody along the road. But it was obvious father wasn't there too and I even looked into the well! I still remember the relief first and next the embarrassment of even having looked there, when my torch just reflected the water below. We were clueless now and we didn't even exchange a word on our way back, this time risking both Prince and the snakes. My only hope was Mayya Maama, father's friend staying half a km away but thankfully my father saved us that journey. As we reached home, we saw the door was open and my father was standing there sheepishly telling us that he was in Mayya Maama's house all along talking and it got just a bit late. We were too exhausted with relief even to complain.
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