2 May 2011
He says, ‘I am a very satisfied man. I have educated my children, they are all settled and earning well’, and then a flash of memory and a doubt creeps in, ‘except for my elder daughter’, he whispers.
‘She is fine, Dadoo, she is doing good, don’t worry about her.’
He laments, ‘It is all my fault, it is the parents’ fault. It is the punishment that I got for going to Nigeria.’
I try to pacify him that what has to happen has to happen but he persists that he is guilty, that if he had been here in India she would not have eloped.
Just a week back he again reminisced on this issue which always disturbs him. ‘Was she alone here in India?’ he asked.
‘No, Dadoo, Dadi was with her.’
‘Oh,’ he said forlornly.
‘How old was she?’ he asked.
‘Seventeen.’
‘Yes, it was a tender and tumultuous age, we should have been more careful. Your grandmother must have found it difficult to take care of a teenage girl. Mala too must have found it difficult to share her doubts and anxieties with her.’ I keep quiet. He has made up his mind long back that it was his fault for spoiling didi’s future.
He also worries about Mamma – what will happen to her, who will take care of her? ‘You are the only ones who have to take care, she has only you.’
Sometimes during his rare moments of sanity he says, ‘She will have no problem, I have provided her with a house, sufficient money and then she will also get my pension, what else is a husband’s duty.’