A different kind of fairy tale

Past and Future sat in compatible silence when Future suddenly said, “Tell me a story”. Past looking down affectionately replied, “OK, but mind you, there will be no dragons to slay or damsel in distress to be rescued.” Future nodded in assent. And Past began ….

Once there was a little boy born in a wealthy family that was a joint one…. so there were grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and helping hands. There were fruit orchards and wheat fields, fishing ponds and lily pools. There were open fields with green grass that swayed in the wind and beautiful flower gardens where there was a riot of colour everywhere.

There was a garage that housed a car, which was a new thing, so a cause of much excitement. There were horse-pulled carriages too. Then there was a cowshed, a hen coop and a duck house.

The house in which this boy lived was a two-storeyed one. While the first floor had bedrooms, the ground floor was spread out with a common drawing room, a separate office room, a guest room and a huge library. This little boy was always amazed at the line of books that decorated the shelves, and try as much he may, even on tiptoe could not reach the top most shelves.

This was a room that awed him the most as a child and he learnt to cherish it as he grew older. Initially, it was with his grandfather that he entered this room. He used to look up on in amazement as his grandfather took down a book and said, “You know, this book here and this whole line, is even older than me! Treasure them when you grow up, for they are far more valuable than gold chains and bangles.” That was the first lesson that the little boy learnt, and later it drove him to respect the written word.

Another thing that always excited this boy was when Moti Dada, his grandfather’s Man Friday, carefully balanced a long pole on top of which was a lighted candle. This he carefully inserted in every lampshade of the chandelier, and then, as if by magic, the whole place started shining. No matter where the boy was, at this time of the day, he never left Moti Dada’s side. Every time he laughed and clapped as one after the other the lamps came aglow.

The dining room that could have hosted a party was laid out for everyone to sit and eat — together — that was the rule. Everyone ate what was given, no one complained and there was always conversation and laughter. Post meals, while the elders of the family sat around to talk, mostly about serious matters, the youngsters had to leave — that was also a rule and no one disobeyed.

Lessons were conducted by a teacher, who came in every evening to teach things that were not in the school curriculum. Learning to speak in English was one of them!

In the free hours, this boy with his cousins and friends, played around in the open fields, swam in the pond, fished in the pools. There was no fear in their hearts. There was no alarm clock. Sunset was the set alarm. Outside home after sundown was met with severe words and in rare cases, a light cane.

But disobedience was rare. Youngsters never answered back, were polite and respectful towards elders and addressed the helping hands as brother, sister, uncle or aunt. Such was the culture that was ingrained.

Festivals were intense fun. Food of different varieties were much awaited, new clothes were a cause of excitement. But from the master of the house to the lowest of helpers — all received gifts at this time of the year.

But as time flew by and the boy grew up, he moved to a different place for livelihood. He is a grandpa now, with a loving family, in a different setting, a different time. But what he had learnt he passed on. Today, he is a satisfied man, having lived life to the full, through ups and downs.

With this Past stopped. Looking down to Future, he asked, “So how was the story?” In answer grandson gripped grandpa a little more tightly and their eyes met. The looks said it all.

Now they keep sitting holding hands as Future dreams on, and Past with misty eyes, but head held high, straightens his arthritic feet firmly on the ground.

Mamata Bandyopadhyay is a homemaker based in Dubai.