Live to tell

I keep writing about sad things these days. That has to stop.

I visited my best friend at the hospital this afternoon.She is in a pitiful state and cannot even open her eyes or talk. I think she won't make it through the week-end. I decided to walk back home from the hospital and I had images of us laughing in my head all the way. Right now, as I am writing, I am playing Live to tell by Madonna which we used to listen to in 1986. It's a powerful ballad where down 30 seconds into the song the lyrics go I was not ready for the fall, too blind to see the writing on the wall, words which could not sound truer these days. I guess the truth is never far behind.

Well, my best friend is about to pass away and the world is going to be a very sad place without her smile.

In life, you will realize there is a role for everyone you meet. Some will test you, some will use you, some will love you and some will teach you. But the ones who are truly important are the ones who bring out the best in you. They are the rare and amazing people who remind you why it's worth it.

For now, I will have to gather all the courage I have left to write a eulogy.

I have got to stop writing about sad things.I have got to stop writing about sad things.

Sid's letter

I shall keep it concise and meaningful. You have wholeheartedly accepted my presence under your roof for the whole of my teenage years, a period through which the meaning of "home" I knew not. Yet, with welcoming arms, you have never failed to trigger in me a sense of belonging. I want you to know that my silent nature has never been synonym of coldness or ungratefulness. I am beyond thankful for the blessing that you represent, and I truly appreciate your seemingly effortless dedication to cater for my needs and well-being.
Circumstances are such that I have deemed radical measures to be necessary in order to undertake a most heartrending and murky chapter of my life. But when I look behind, it is unquestionable that you have sealed your place as a pillar of my adolescence. Your warmth of personality shall be missed. I sincerely apologise for having deserted so ungracefully. Thank you for everything.
                                                                                                               
                                                                                                                -Sid

Sid - Changer n'est pas facile

Le départ de Sid m'a autant surpris que décontenancé. Je suis passé devant sa chambre ce matin et il n'y avait plus rien. Son ordinateur, ses vêtements, ses chaussures, tout avait disparu. Je lui ai envoyé un texto mais il doit être en cours en ce moment et je vais devoir attendre avant de recevoir un message de lui. Quand maman a appelé ma soeur, elle a tout simplement dit: Line ale reste kot so papa, si li envi rétourné, li retourné, si li pa envi,li ava reste laba même. Ensuite elle a raccroché. Sid est parti vivre chez son père et ni lui, ni sa mère n'a trouvé bon de nous prévenir. Il est parti sans dire au-revoir et même si je ne suis ni en colère ni frustré, je suis quand même triste qu'il s'en aille aussi silencieusement après avoir vécu sept ans dans cette maison. Il y a quand même passé toute son adolescence.

Tout compte fait, je pense qu'il sera plus tranquille là-bas. Peut-être finira-t-il également par trouver la sérénité loin d'une mère au comportement de plus en plus incohérent. La psychologie n'a jamais été mon fort et je finis par me demander si je n'aurais pas du faire plus d'efforts et passer plus de temps avec lui. Après tout, ce n'est parce qu'on vivait et cohabitait dans une bonne entente qu'il était pour autant heureux.

Tous ces changements sont fatigants et douloureux mais en cédant à la tristesse, je ne ferai que nourrir une émotion qui prendrait sa source dans une carence affective et refoulée probablement dans l'inconscient. Vouloir comprendre le pourquoi du comment serait une entreprise hasardeuse et mieux vaut penser à s'en libérer dès maintenant.  Il me suffit tout simplement de voir Sid et discuter un peu avec lui.

Sid ne penserait jamais à faire de mal à une mouche et son départ n'est pas dirigé contre nous mais tout simplement motivé par un besoin de se (re)trouver. Je l'encourage donc dans cette voie car lui aussi a besoin d'évoluer. Nous ne sommes pas venus au monde pour rester tels que nous sommes: le but de l'existence est de changer, d'évoluer et de renoncer à beaucoup de choses auxquelles nous sommes attachées et qui sont étrangères à ce que nous sommes vraiment. Nous ne savons pas toujours ce qu'il faut abandonner et ce qu'il faut garder mais nous apprenons tous les jours.

1958

Dad's diary - started in 58 until 62-63.

In 1961, my dad got a one year scholarship to study in Scotland. It took him, one whole month of sailing from Mauritius, via Djibouti, Aden, Suez canal, France to reach Edinburgh.Below is an extract of his diary where he gets news about his mother.

                                                                                             The Manor Club, Edinburgh
                                                                                                               7th March, 1962

I received four letters from Mauritius to-day.One each from my wife, Satiacharan, Nund & Banon.
Satiacharan wrote that mother was very ill and that the doctors had pronounced that she would get coronary attacks until the end of her life.
My wife sent about 8 photographs of Baby Sadhna. In one of the photographs mother was holding baby in her hands and these sentences were written at the back of the snap: A souvenir of our dear mother, the picture of whose face we shall always bear in our heart.God bless her. P.S: never part with this photograph. After reading these sentences I became suspicious that something really bad had happened to her.
I wrote back immediately asking the brothers to tell me the truth because it is difficult to go on living in doubt.
I did some detective work on the letters and have come to the conclusion that mother is ill and that her days are counted.Those sentences at the back of the photograph have intrigued me and I don't know for certain what has happened.
I cannot bear to see my mother suffer mentally.Ever since I have knowledge of her I have seen her relapsing into her mental anaemia. So much so that I have prayed for death to come to her and deliver her from her sufferings.
The next mail from home is coming in three days.I hope to get some more news then.
About the photographs of baby, it is such a change to be actually able to see how my baby looks like.These two months I have been trying hard to make a picture of her in my mind without success.
Now, I know how she looks very bonnie and she resembles me, at least that's what my eyes and my mind tell me.
I bought a frame at Boots at Rs3.10 and put two of the pictures in it. I have placed it on the mantelpiece in my room and can look at it everyday.

                                                                                                                         
                                                                                                               8th March, 1962

This afternoon I paid a visit to Nelson, the publishers.I saw there books being printed and bound- Julius Caesar, Hamlet, As you like it, The Merchant of Venice, King Solomon's Mines, The Bible, Sense & Sensibility, Geography, English Grammar & Fairy Tales, Arithmetic and Biology books.I also saw these French books among others- Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and Notre Dame de Paris.
There are 500-600 employed persons in the printing and binding of books there. It took us about two hours to visit the whole press and binding section.
While on visit there, I felt the truth of the saying " Travel broadens the mind".I realised how many things were happening in the world.Things about which we are ignorant and things which make us think on other subjects than our own humdrum affairs.
Going to Moray House makes me forget about the bad news from home about my mother.When I remain alone in my room I brood over what may have happened to Mother back at home.I can't come to a solution of the mystery which has begun by the contents of the two letters from home.Is my dear Mother dead or is she still alive? If I shall have to choose between her illness and her death, I prefer her to be dead than to go on suffering as she has done in the past.
It's only two days hence - on Saturday- that the next mail from Mauritius arrives.Until then I shall have to go out and try not to think of home.
I like to be at Moray House because the rooms are warm and I have no other choice than studying there. This morning I played the spool from home for the fourth or fifth time, I heard Uma's, Satiacharan's, Suresh's, Missir's, Deviani Phouphou's, the Old Boys' & Barkamama's voice again. I heard the Indian songs also. I didn't listen to Mother's voice because I thought it would be too sad to hear her voice at this juncture. It doesn't pay to make things worse- they are already bad as they are at the present moment.

                                                                                                               9th March, 1962

I bought 5 yards of cotton cloth this morning for two dresses for baby and two blouses for my wife. I enclosed in the parcel two toys which I bought yesterday.
To-day it has been mild.I am happy not to feel cold when I go out now.
After my classes I went to the Punjab Restaurant to see what Indian film was being shown by the Asian Film Society next Sunday. With what a joy I saw that Mela (with Dilp Kumar & Nargis) was on the programme! I saw that film about twelve years ago. What a thrill it will be to hear the music of Naushad and the old hits.
Wrote to Missir Bahenoi & to Didi.Just posted the letter.
Hope to hear from home tomorrow morning about the fate of Mother.I pray God that nothing bad has happened to the Old Girl.But will have to accept anything which befalls us.My motto is There is no ill wind that blows nobody good.
Saw this film "Les Bas-Fonds" at the french institute last evening.The film starred Jean Gabin and Louis Jouvet.It was directed by Jean Renoir and won first prize in France several years ago.
I kiss the two photographs of my wife with my baby about eight times a day - twice when I get up in the morning, twice again before going to Moray House, twice when I come back from M.House and twice before going to bed at night.
If Mother is dead I shall have to become more economical in my spending and think more than twice before buying anything useless.I shall be directly responsible for my three sisters.Of course my three brothers will share the responsibility but the Old Girl will not be present to manage everything.


                                                                                                            10th March, 1962

- IN MEMORIAM - To my Mother

It is now 9a.m.At last the doubt about Mother's fate is gone.I have just received a letter from Agan Chacha informing me that Mother died on the night of the 27th February.She had a coronary thrombosis.
I am happy that Mother has passed away.She has suffered so much in life and she was bound to suffer from mental anaemia to the end of her life. I am happy for her because now she will have a long rest and peace from the toils of life.
My only regret is that I couldn't see her on the end of her journey.
On looking upon her past life I have always taken her to be an exceptional case because she was mentally not normal.That's why I don't want to pronounce a judgement on her.
I shall always remember her for the great love she had for her children and the great amount of sacrifice which she could bear for us. She was always up and doing and, as long as she was sane, she always put up a bold front to life.
Among my first memories of my mother is that of my father putting her into a car and bringing her to the Mental Hospital at Beau Bassin.
We used to go out to the fields together and collect sugarcane leaves for our cows.This was the routine every morning before going to school during week-days. On saturdays we needed to remain in the fields until late.
Then during the war we used to go to the rice fields to plant rice in the paddy fields. One year we had planted maize and we roasted some corn knobs in the fields and ate them then and there.
During the war equally we used to plant sweet potatoes & manioc in the fields. After that there were cucumbers and ground nuts and tomatoes.
She was happiest when she was going out into the fields either to bring fodder for the cows or to look after the vegetables and the cultivation.
I, my elder brother and our sister were those who used to go with out with her.For about ten years our dog "Tiger" was the faithful companion to our fields.
It was only when my father had made much money and bought a car that life became too comfortable for my Mother and she felt miserable through too much luxury and through the wild life of the Old Boy.
When we were too young to go to the fields she used to bring sugar cane and pommes jacots for us.
Mingled with her ceaseless activity was her intermittent relapse into mental anaemia.After the birth of each child she used to have a relapse.So much so that, beginning with me, all my younger brothers and sisters have lacked the proper love and care of a mother during the first six or eight months of our lives.
It was such a sad life with Mother not sane from about 5a.m in the morning until late at night, sometimes even past midnight. That happened about twelve times in twelve years, lasting for about 6 months each year.
Though she had less relapses after she had given birth to Anita, yet we never knew when she would become ill again.Summer used to be the season for her illness and we were afraid of that season.
Through what mental torture hasn't she been! Had she gone on living till she would have died of old age we have no guarantee that she would have worried less about the future of her children. It was just her cross that she had to carry. Not for her the gift of a calm and balanced mind.
After pondering over these matters, I conclude that it was a good thing that she died. For nothing in the world did I like to see my mother suffer.
She was fortunate to have seen my wedding and to become Dadi (grandmother) before dying. It is not the luck of every woman to become Dadi.
I shall always remember the last I saw of her.I was on the "Registan" leaving Mauritius for U.K. After having seen me board the ship, she kissed me and went to the gangway. Before going down the gangway, she turned round and said to me "Taniko tracas nahin lié" (Don't worry about anything). She was smiling.She wore a rose saree, a white blouse and had a red tika on the forehead.
Everything appears so sad to me today.The weather is dull.The sun hasn't appeared at all.
What has life in store for me now?

Hello! to what promises to be a sexy month of June