A Full Turn

                                       A Full Turn                                            

“Grow up, man! How long will you keep dreaming that Government will invite you to take up a senior position under them? How long do you expect me to run the household on my small pension?” This tirade from my papa was not a new thing; it had become almost a daily ritual. Finally, sick and tired of these daily rebukes I had agreed to go to Delhi with him.

                We had taken the night bus which had lower fares than the luxury buses which plied in the day. The bus arrived at Delhi bus terminal at about seven in the morning and though I had managed to get a fair amount of sleep during the night, papa had not had any. I could see this from the haggard look he sported when we got down at Delhi and the dark circles under his eyes. It was not surprising though; he was after all over sixty-five and the bus was not one of the luxury ones, it was an ordinary service, with hard seats and rattling windows, not exactly designed to promote sleep.

                      Papa had retired from the State Electricity Board five years ago, and his constant worry was that I was still unemployed at the age of thirty, even though I was fully qualified to hold any position under Government. He had wanted me to get into a job so that I could supplement his meagre pension, but lately, he had accepted the fact in the present time it was difficult to get a job unless one knew someone in a high position in the concerned organisation. He had tried all his contacts but had failed and as a last resort, he had decided to take me to Delhi to meet one of his cousins who was the Director in a Government department. I had strongly opposed this idea, because I knew that Papa and this cousin had not been in touch for a long time, and I did not relish the idea of seeking favours from someone with whom we had not been close. But Papa had told me that if I did not want to seek his help, I must agree to open a small shop in the colony where we lived, and hope that with diligence and hard work it will grow. This idea was totally repugnant to me; I did not wish to be a shopkeeper after having obtained a Master’s Degree in English literature, and so I had agreed to accompany him to Delhi, not so much with a hope of landing a job but mainly to avoid being rebuked every day.

                     On getting down from the bus, Papa wanted to go straight to his cousin's house in Chanakyapuri, and have his bath and breakfast there, but I put my foot down.

"How can you go to someone's house unannounced so early in the morning? Besides, it is the time when everybody would be getting ready for office or school. We should get ready here itself, and then go there around nine o'clock."

"You don't know how the people in our generation honour relationships. You will see that they will welcome us warmly whenever we reach there."

However, I remained firm. We refreshed ourselves in the facilities at the bus stand, had some sort of breakfast there and then took an auto-rickshaw to go to Chanakyapuri. It was around nine o'clock, and Papa wanted to meet his cousin before he left for his office. His idea was that we would stay there for a couple of days, till some job for me was fixed.

We reached the address in about twenty minutes. There was a guard at the door and he looked enquiringly at us as we got down with our bags.

"We are coming from Lucknow and have to meet Mr Das," Papa said.

"Sir is getting ready for the office. He will not meet anyone at this time. You can go to his office and meet him there."

This was exactly as I had feared. I had been telling Papa that people in Delhi, especially senior Government officials, were very busy and one just could not land at their house without any notice. He had, however, always dismissed my reservations, saying that their family bonds were too strong to need any formal invitations or prior information.

"Please go and tell your Sir that Krishan Das has come from Lucknow."

The guard went in and was back in a moment.

"Please come in. Sir will be seeing you in a few minutes."

With this, we were ushered into the luxuriously furnished drawing-room. Papa looked at me and said,

"See, this is how I want you to be living someday."

Before I could make a reply, Mr Das came in. He was smartly dressed in a formal suit, obviously ready to leave for the office.

Papa rose from his seat with a broad smile and extended his arms to hug his dear cousin, but his gesture met a cold response as Mr Das extended his hand for a handshake.

"So? What brings you to Delhi? You are living in Lucknow, aren't you?"

I could see that Papa was feeling terribly let down. He had made before me an image of very close and loving bonds among all his cousins, and this cold reception had totally shaken him. He could not see any way to camouflage his real intention.

"Yes, we are at Lucknow. I brought my son, Arun, with me so that he could meet you. He has done his Master's Degree in first class. You are such an important officer and I am sure if you put in a word somewhere he can easily be fixed in a job."

"I am afraid Krishan you have unnecessarily wasted your time and money. I do not make recommendations for anyone. My dictum is that if you have merit, you will succeed and if you have no merit you do not deserve to succeed. Let him apply wherever suitable vacancies appear, and someday, he will surely be picked up."

Papa was at a loss for words. I could see that he had not even dreamt of such a cold reception.

Mr Das called the guard and asked him to tell the driver to get the car ready.

"I am sorry I have to leave for the office now. But do have a cup of tea before you go back." With these words, he picked up his briefcase and left.

There was a stunned silence between us. I was smarting under the rebuff which we had received while Papa was probably feeling a terrible loss of face. The high hopes which he had of the old family bonds coming to his aid lay shattered at his feet.

Before we could decide on what we should do now, a maid brought two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"Do you want tea?" Papa asked.

"No, Papa. Let us go."

"Yes, we will go back to Lucknow," Papa said.

We picked up our bags and told the guard at the gate to tell Madam that we had some other work and so we were leaving and would be going back to Lucknow after that.

We walked out and spotted an auto-rickshaw at the main road. We hailed it and asked the driver to take us to the bus stand.

I was seething with anger at papa for the humiliation which his trust on the so-called family bonds had brought on us. I had a lot to say to him, but when I looked at him I found that he was sitting with his eyes averted from me. Before I could say anything he turned to look at me. I saw that his eyes were full of tears. There was suddenly a surge of sympathy and affection for him in my heart. After all, he had made this trip for my sake alone. All the words I had chosen for him froze within me. I quietly held his hand and said,

"Papa, don't worry. You will not speak to anyone for me now. I will start the shop you have been talking about. We will show everyone that we do not need anyone's help."

Papa smiled and a sigh of satisfaction and comfort escaped his lips. He put his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes. I realized at that moment that our roles had reversed and a time had come when I had to take care of him. I had finally grown up; the wheel of life had indeed taken a turned a full turn.