It’s always good at Kumars’

Staying alone in a city is fun, especially when the city is peppered with family and friends. There has not been a weekend where I have found it hard to get through. It’s always packed --- If last week it was an office party, this week it was a reunion of old friends and next week I would have to spend with relatives calling on from out of station. But whatever be the case, I never fail to make it to the Kumars’ on Saturdays.
Vijay Kumar and his wife Rekha live in a three-bedroom apartment in Chennai. The best part of being at Kumars’ is the post-lunch chinwag we have that at times goes till dinner. Thankam (Rekha’s mother), Rekha and I are regulars at it. Thankam is in her eighties and is full of life, enthusiasm and is up-to-date on the current affairs.
Of late our pet topic is recession. Last Saturday, while I shared stories picked from my workplace, Rekha gave inputs gathered from different apartments in the colony. Thankam who is mostly confined to the house had her take on it. She went into the flashback mode --- On how life used to be ‘then’.
It was at this time Vijay came out of his study.
“If you miss the bus, you better walk it back. No autorickshaws,” he was shouting at Rohit (their son studying in 12th standard).
“Please be careful,” Thankam cautioned, “make sure you cross the road properly.”
“As a part of cost-cutting, the school bus plies only once in the afternoon for evening classes. And invariably some of the students miss it,” Rekha informed me.
“Look how easy she is about it. I am very scared,” Thankam commented about Rekha’s attitude.
“I still remember,” Thankam reflected, “When we were in Koramangala in the early Seventies. One day, Vijay had to go to for classes. And as though it was conspired, both the drivers did not turn up. The cars were at home but without a driver. I was expecting Maya (Vijay’s sister) and could not drive. Vijay’s father was in a foul mood that morning. He asked Vijay to walk it all the way for classes. I could not protest and Vijay had to go that day walking for the first time. I don’t know how he managed it.”
The expression in Thankam’s eyes said she was reliving that ordeal.
“From the time Vijay left home till he got back I was on tenterhooks. Both the telephones were out-of-order. None of our servants had also turned up. Vijay’s father left for work and I was alone at home. If someone broke into the house I could not even call for help.”
“But I was more worried for Vijay. On his way while walking someone could kidnap him. Those days that were rampant and children were taken away for their vital organs. They were even blinded and sent to Delhi for begging. Out of fear I let loose our four dogs. At least they would protect me from any harm.”
“Finally at around five I heard our dogs bark and knew Vijay had got back.”
With a frown on her face Rekha turned to me and whispered: “Vijay was late as he had to collect the application forms for his M Tech entrance exams.”
“Those were the longest few hours of my life,” Thankam said. After ruminating for some time and taking a long sigh she concluded: “Those were actually the toughest times. No car, no servants and no telephones…”