Fiction & Nonfiction

A Torturous Journey

A Torturous Journey

As she strolled along the avenue where the artists were holding an exhibition cum sale of their works, Indu's mind was in turmoil. Looking at the canvasses and miscellany of works of art accomplished in metal, yarn and plastic, unseeing at times and with her eyes open often, she pondered over the events of the past one year.

" Indu, look at those magnificent set of horses. Don't they remind you of Hussain?"(a famous Indian painter who specialized in horses) asked Rakesh, her husband of twenty six years. Though not a collector, Rakesh was proud of a few oil paintings he owned.

"Yes dear, they do. They are a handsome duo," replied Indu, her voice quietly pleasant. A while later he left her side to let her browse the stalls on her own.

Life was peaceful till Boston happened. On a fine autumn day, the tranquility of their lives seemed shattered.

Their son Saroj, who taught Math at MIT, Boston, announced during his annual visit to India,
"Ma, I want to marry Rosa, a Harvard Ph.D scholar of Psychology. She is a Mexican American."

After absorbing this outright stunner, she asked feebly, " Have you thought of the future? Your children, their lot?" Indu's anguish came through her words.
"Rosa and I will bring them up as courageous and good individuals Ma; you don't have to worry about that part of the marriage." He sounded firm and decisive. He had always been confident of what he wanted.

Indu and Rakesh mulled over the matter for nearly a year and finally agreed for the marriage. A man should get married at some point of time,after all, thought Indu.

Brooking no further delay, the parents went ahead with the wedding plans. Saroj wanted a Vedic Wedding. (Vedas are the Hindu religious texts dealing with ceremonies such as marriage.)
Indu, as she sorted through the invitation cards, was still in a state of shock.
"Is it really going to happen?" she asked Rakesh. He was more practical,less given to emotion.
"If he feels he is going to be happy this way, let him go ahead. He is mature enough to take serious decisions," he replied in a consoling tone.
"May be this one marriage is made in Heaven too," Indu comforted herself.

About a hundred and fifty guests attended the wedding performed by three well-versed purohits(Hindu priests).
It was a colorful wedding. The bride was given away by Indu's parents as Rosa's dad and mom couldn't make the trip to India due to personal problems. The groom and the bride shone in wedding finery and sunny smiles.Garlands of roses they exchanged smelt delicious like life ahead. Dinner was appreciated.

On the next day, the newly-weds and parents left for Tirupathi, a place of worship in south India, seeking the blessings of Lord Venkateswara, Hindu deity. At the temple town, Rosa went through the painful process of walking long distances on naked feet through dust and heat. "It felt like hot sand," she said sitting on the wide stairs facing the temple to relieve the strain of walking.The unfamiliar terrain buzzing with multitudes that thronged this wonderful place of worship puzzled her.

Indu appreciated her daughter-in-law's patience and cheerful way she faced the unfamiliar ethos. Saroj, however, was annoyed at the discomfort that his wife had to go through. Sleeping on a thin mattress laid on the cold floor of the cottage, shortage of hot water in the bath, and the long wait for the entrance to the temple's sanctum, irritated him.

The newly-weds, soon after their return left for Boston in a cloud of happiness despite the shades of apprehension. They returned six months later, a rather too short an interval in Indu's opinion. But they wanted more of India.Strange!!
Rakesh was away on a work trip. Indu received them at the city's small airport.

"It is still a wonder for me to have a foreigner in the house," observed Indu one day while talking to the young couple.Her son flared up.
"What is it with you Ma? Are you jealous or something?"
Indu was too stunned to think of a reply.Rosa was more understanding.
"Why do you make a big thing out of an innocent remark?" she asked her husband. He fell silent.

It was at the end of their two-week stay that things got on Indu's nerves. With the irregular visits of domestic help, the load of work, the frequent visits from friends and relatives, with no help whatever either from son or from his wife, she burst forth one day in helpless anger. Arguments and counter arguments followed, leaving a bitter aftermath for a while.

None too soon for Indu, it was time for her son and Rosa to return to Boston. The cultural differences between her and Rosa had been painfully obvious and troublesome to Indu. How would her son fair with a wife that did not help out in the home as was custom in the Indian lifestyle? These questions and more bore down on Indu, leaving a sense of apprehension for her son's future.

A year later, Indu and Rakesh visited their son and Rosa in Boston. Things started appearing in their true colors. Rakesh argued that in a marriage, a man and a woman had unique chores to perform despite the ongoing debate over equality of sexes. Of course, they could always substitute for certain works like a man should not hesitate in changing the baby's diapers or cook when the occasion demanded. But Saroj and Rosa had different opinions concerning domesticity. The harsh truth, however, was that Rosa could not cook nor was she willing to learn, at least not at that juncture. Rakesh was disappointed. He questioned Rosa's eagerness in noting down recipes from Indu on long telephone calls before marriage. His son, however, was reluctant to see Rosa in the least negative light. His parents realized that it was better to leave certain things to time to be sorted out.

Indu came back to the present when a little boy bumped into her. She bought a small oil painting from an elderly artist who specialized in roadscapes such as city roads and highways, country roads and roads running between tall buildings, some by the sea and among mountains. His work fascinated her.
"How is business this week?" Indu asked him." Not good, not good." He replied. His beard bobbed sideways.

Wishing him luck, she walked homeward in July twilight. She felt strangely peaceful. How relieving it was not to be opinionated! 
Her son taught her that, she smiled to herself.

Rakesh, who reached home earlier, met her in the hallway. It was wonderful knowledge that together they were ready to take any road, and still enjoy the panorama.