Around every family, there are persons who are adept in poisoning the ears. They whisper their wisdom in the ears of certain persons which make the internal adjustments within the family topple down. This happened in our home also. I have told you that Madhuri had taken the responsibility of sending meals to my parents every day. This continued without interruption for three years. Both of them were satisfied with the meals and the care she used to take. If they needed some special dish on any occasion they used to let her know and Madhuri would prepare for them. Though we were living in a separate house they could not be forsaken or forgotten. Madhuri would find time to visit them every evening to find out how they were, their medical requirements etc. If necessary doctors were called for and I was keen to ensure their proper treatment. This good will caused heartburns to a few people and they began finding ‘special’ motives behind such frequent visits and concerns. Something was whispered in Daddaji’s ears and surprisingly he got convinced. He was probably suspecting that I had mean intentions behind my sincerity and concerns. When Sangeeta came to Bilaspur during vacations she went to visit her grandparents. During conversation Daddaji’s said a few things which were awkward and then added, “Your mother sends us tiffin. Is she doing any favor? We can procure meals for ten rupees from the market!”
I was apprised of this when I returned home. I asked Madhuri to stop sending tiffins in future. Madhuri disagreed, “Daddaji often says several things, he might have said so, who would feed them?”
“They can have it bought from the market. He has lots of money. I’ll tell him.”
“Don’t get flared up, they will find it very inconvenient.” She said.
Both of us tried to reach a conclusion but could not decide. Next morning she said, “You are deep in trouble while everyone else is enjoying. None bothered to realize your troubles burdening you they have become free from all kinds of worries, let them get a chance to serve him. O.K. I won’t send tiffin any longer.”
It was 10th March 1999. Tiffin service came to an end and with this, our conversations also came an end. I was extremely sad. Daddaji and Ammaji’s conditions began deteriorating. He became seriously ill, turned into a skeleton. After some days they were compelled to leave the house. This was because of me. I am guilty, a merciless son who drove his old ailing parents in those days of misery to distress. Condemn me as much as you want. It was my ego that pushed them to suffer.
Time speeding continued to sweep. A home full of hustle bustle gradually got vacated as inhabitants began leaving it one after another. Six daughters went to their respective homes after marriage. Elder brother Roop Narayan went to Raipur in 1975 followed by me in 1984 and Rajkumar in 1996, leaving only two persons in that spacious house, 83-year-old Daddaji and 81-years-old Ammaji. In view of their inconvenience elder brother took both of them to Raipur in 1999. The house with fourteen rooms at Golbazar deserted and a Godrej lock was fixed to its entrance. Silence reigned in a house bursting with activities.
In Raipur Daddaji’s condition worsened. Investigations revealed that the kidney was malfunctioning. He was admitted to a Nephrologist’s clinic. I went to see him. I kept standing. He looked at me with a cold glance and began looking in another direction. Later on, I was informed that he was lodged in a Naturopathy hospital. I went to see him again. He had shrunk considerably with eyes looking pitiable. Even on that day, he did not speak to me while I could not summon the courage to speak to him. He was passing through the dusk of his life somehow as do the tail Enders in cricket do.
A few days later, I was in my shop Madhu Chhaya Kendra. Telephone rang. It was Daddaji’s voice, choked with emotions: “I am speaking.”
“Ji, Daddaji, Pranam,” I said.
“Are you angry?”
“No, certainly not.”
“I made a serious mistake in estimating you, pardon me.”
“What do you say, Daddaji? Please don’t say so. It was my fault. You grant me pardon.”
“No, you weren’t at fault. Let ignore the past”
“But Daddaji, you took a long time to estimate me. You know that I have turned fifty-two.” I burst into tears. He remained silent for some time and then said, “Come to Raipur tomorrow. I have to discuss an important matter with you.”
“Ji, I’ll come.
Next day, 15th October 1999, I went to him. His knees had bent which he couldn’t stretch. He had become extremely weak, eyes stretch sunk. In a very weak voice, he said, “Come, Chhote bhaiya, sit.”
“Ji.” I touched his feet and set beside him.
“I want to consult you.”
“Ji.”
“I want to divide the property, what is your opinion? How should it be done?”
“How can I advise you? You do what you deem best.”
“See, I am asking only you. I haven’t asked anybody.”
“You used to solve everybody’s problem. How can I suggest you anything?”
“Come on, now tell me what do you want?”
"Shop, ‘Pendrawala’. ”
“Why? Munna (younger brother) insists on having it.”
“Our reputation is linked with it. I cannot see its mismanaged condition.”
“Leave it aside. You accept the lodge and run it. If it runs well the family reputation will increase and everything will become all right, accept my proposal.”
“As you like it.”
“Go and open its lock. Get it cleaned and after finding a Shubh Muhurt, the auspicious time, start running it.”
“Ji”, I said.
The lodge reopened on 31st October 1999 after the ritual Puja. It was named after my grandfather Jagdish Narayan as Shri Jagdish Lodge. All the members of the family attended the Puja except Daddaji whose health did not permit him to travel. The lodge was constructed under Daddaji’s supervision who, despite his old age, supervised every minute detail for twenty-five years. He could not witness its inauguration.
In the mid-heart of city, Sadar Bazar, the lodge began functioning but did not enjoy a clientele. Some stray customer would stay while the two of us sit there, day and night, almost idle. Madhuri enquired me, “How come, people don’t seem to notice the lodge?”
“It will take a lot of my time. People must know about it then only will they turn towards it.” Our financial crisis was too deep one couldn’t predict how much time it might take.
One month later, Daddaji called all of us to Raipur. Three brothers sat near him. After consultations, he divided his entire movable-immovable property among us. He didn’t make any provision for Ammaji which, to my mind, was his blunder.
An interesting fact emerged in this family meeting, the person who didn’t want anything, wanted to have everything. At the end of the meeting, Daddaji asked me, “I nurse a complaint against you.”
“Complaint! Against me?” I demanded.
“You borrowed money from people, never cared for my reputation.”
“It is true I borrowed. But did anyone approach you asking for repayment?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear that I refused to repay the basic money to anyone or didn’t pay him the interest?”
“No.”
“Then how did your reputation suffer blemish?”
“What you say is correct.”
“Since you started the discussion, may I ask you one thing?”
“Yes, do ask.”
“What compelled me to borrow from others despite you?”
“Yes, that was my lapse.” he promptly answered with a shadow of sadness on his face.
On 27th February 2000, I received a message from Raipur that Daddaji’s condition was critical. On the way to bus stand I parked my scooter at a shop on the road and boarded a bus leaving for Raipur. By six in the evening, I reached elder brother’s home and took my nephew Tejprakash to the hospital. Daddaji saw me, held my both hands in his hands. A silent communication ensued between us. All of sudden his breathing became too fast and within seconds ceased, his eyes turned blank. A glorious man, who had no foes, became powerless, defeated by death only.
His mortal remains were brought to Bilaspur the same night where he was laid to rest where he had spent golden years of his life. His inert body was speechless, looking so unusually odd. It seemed he would rise and begin scolding,“you can’t even manage my funeral properly!”
On 28th February, prior to his last journey, wreaths were placed on his body. I too offered flowers and touched his feet. Tears welling in my eyes since last evening burst from my eyes. It wasn’t my father I was bidding adieu. I was saying goodbye to my mentor, my Guru, who molded my personality, taught business skills, taught how to behave, speak and value time. He taught me discipline, honesty, and frankness.
I was apprised of this when I returned home. I asked Madhuri to stop sending tiffins in future. Madhuri disagreed, “Daddaji often says several things, he might have said so, who would feed them?”
“They can have it bought from the market. He has lots of money. I’ll tell him.”
“Don’t get flared up, they will find it very inconvenient.” She said.
Both of us tried to reach a conclusion but could not decide. Next morning she said, “You are deep in trouble while everyone else is enjoying. None bothered to realize your troubles burdening you they have become free from all kinds of worries, let them get a chance to serve him. O.K. I won’t send tiffin any longer.”
It was 10th March 1999. Tiffin service came to an end and with this, our conversations also came an end. I was extremely sad. Daddaji and Ammaji’s conditions began deteriorating. He became seriously ill, turned into a skeleton. After some days they were compelled to leave the house. This was because of me. I am guilty, a merciless son who drove his old ailing parents in those days of misery to distress. Condemn me as much as you want. It was my ego that pushed them to suffer.
Time speeding continued to sweep. A home full of hustle bustle gradually got vacated as inhabitants began leaving it one after another. Six daughters went to their respective homes after marriage. Elder brother Roop Narayan went to Raipur in 1975 followed by me in 1984 and Rajkumar in 1996, leaving only two persons in that spacious house, 83-year-old Daddaji and 81-years-old Ammaji. In view of their inconvenience elder brother took both of them to Raipur in 1999. The house with fourteen rooms at Golbazar deserted and a Godrej lock was fixed to its entrance. Silence reigned in a house bursting with activities.
In Raipur Daddaji’s condition worsened. Investigations revealed that the kidney was malfunctioning. He was admitted to a Nephrologist’s clinic. I went to see him. I kept standing. He looked at me with a cold glance and began looking in another direction. Later on, I was informed that he was lodged in a Naturopathy hospital. I went to see him again. He had shrunk considerably with eyes looking pitiable. Even on that day, he did not speak to me while I could not summon the courage to speak to him. He was passing through the dusk of his life somehow as do the tail Enders in cricket do.
A few days later, I was in my shop Madhu Chhaya Kendra. Telephone rang. It was Daddaji’s voice, choked with emotions: “I am speaking.”
“Ji, Daddaji, Pranam,” I said.
“Are you angry?”
“No, certainly not.”
“I made a serious mistake in estimating you, pardon me.”
“What do you say, Daddaji? Please don’t say so. It was my fault. You grant me pardon.”
“No, you weren’t at fault. Let ignore the past”
“But Daddaji, you took a long time to estimate me. You know that I have turned fifty-two.” I burst into tears. He remained silent for some time and then said, “Come to Raipur tomorrow. I have to discuss an important matter with you.”
“Ji, I’ll come.
Next day, 15th October 1999, I went to him. His knees had bent which he couldn’t stretch. He had become extremely weak, eyes stretch sunk. In a very weak voice, he said, “Come, Chhote bhaiya, sit.”
“Ji.” I touched his feet and set beside him.
“I want to consult you.”
“Ji.”
“I want to divide the property, what is your opinion? How should it be done?”
“How can I advise you? You do what you deem best.”
“See, I am asking only you. I haven’t asked anybody.”
“You used to solve everybody’s problem. How can I suggest you anything?”
“Come on, now tell me what do you want?”
"Shop, ‘Pendrawala’. ”
“Why? Munna (younger brother) insists on having it.”
“Our reputation is linked with it. I cannot see its mismanaged condition.”
“Leave it aside. You accept the lodge and run it. If it runs well the family reputation will increase and everything will become all right, accept my proposal.”
“As you like it.”
“Go and open its lock. Get it cleaned and after finding a Shubh Muhurt, the auspicious time, start running it.”
“Ji”, I said.
The lodge reopened on 31st October 1999 after the ritual Puja. It was named after my grandfather Jagdish Narayan as Shri Jagdish Lodge. All the members of the family attended the Puja except Daddaji whose health did not permit him to travel. The lodge was constructed under Daddaji’s supervision who, despite his old age, supervised every minute detail for twenty-five years. He could not witness its inauguration.
In the mid-heart of city, Sadar Bazar, the lodge began functioning but did not enjoy a clientele. Some stray customer would stay while the two of us sit there, day and night, almost idle. Madhuri enquired me, “How come, people don’t seem to notice the lodge?”
“It will take a lot of my time. People must know about it then only will they turn towards it.” Our financial crisis was too deep one couldn’t predict how much time it might take.
One month later, Daddaji called all of us to Raipur. Three brothers sat near him. After consultations, he divided his entire movable-immovable property among us. He didn’t make any provision for Ammaji which, to my mind, was his blunder.
An interesting fact emerged in this family meeting, the person who didn’t want anything, wanted to have everything. At the end of the meeting, Daddaji asked me, “I nurse a complaint against you.”
“Complaint! Against me?” I demanded.
“You borrowed money from people, never cared for my reputation.”
“It is true I borrowed. But did anyone approach you asking for repayment?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear that I refused to repay the basic money to anyone or didn’t pay him the interest?”
“No.”
“Then how did your reputation suffer blemish?”
“What you say is correct.”
“Since you started the discussion, may I ask you one thing?”
“Yes, do ask.”
“What compelled me to borrow from others despite you?”
“Yes, that was my lapse.” he promptly answered with a shadow of sadness on his face.
On 27th February 2000, I received a message from Raipur that Daddaji’s condition was critical. On the way to bus stand I parked my scooter at a shop on the road and boarded a bus leaving for Raipur. By six in the evening, I reached elder brother’s home and took my nephew Tejprakash to the hospital. Daddaji saw me, held my both hands in his hands. A silent communication ensued between us. All of sudden his breathing became too fast and within seconds ceased, his eyes turned blank. A glorious man, who had no foes, became powerless, defeated by death only.
His mortal remains were brought to Bilaspur the same night where he was laid to rest where he had spent golden years of his life. His inert body was speechless, looking so unusually odd. It seemed he would rise and begin scolding,“you can’t even manage my funeral properly!”
On 28th February, prior to his last journey, wreaths were placed on his body. I too offered flowers and touched his feet. Tears welling in my eyes since last evening burst from my eyes. It wasn’t my father I was bidding adieu. I was saying goodbye to my mentor, my Guru, who molded my personality, taught business skills, taught how to behave, speak and value time. He taught me discipline, honesty, and frankness.
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