The Trees Had All

The entire house hold of the Kapoor family was buzzing with far and close relatives who made a bee line to visit the the octogenarian Kapoor , who announced to make his “WILL”. Everyone waited to have at least a little slice of his vast estate. They wanted to be in the old man’s memory in case he might forget them which is quite common in that age. 

Sons , daughters, daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, first cousins, distant cousins, relatives from Mrs. Kapoor’s family , relatives from Mr. Kapoor’s family all buzzed in like swarm of wasps , only good at stinging. No one could check on the antecedents of the relatives since poor Mrs. Kapoor was already happily smiling from the photo frame with a plastic garland indicating her departure to heavenly abode two years ago.

Mr. Kapoor , healthy in mind with frail body still had command over the family. Never he missed his schedule rather one could set time with his routine.

           Early morning 4.30am - Meditation

            5 am. - warm water with dash of lemon juice and honey

            5.30 am- yoga

            6am - five rounds of walk in the estate park

Later read the news paper, have breakfast etc,. The old man would work in his office till lunch time followed by an afternoon siesta and again keep himself busy till supper time and go back to bed at sharp 9.30 pm.

 This routine was never missed. Only once he compromised with the schedule when Mrs. Kapoor left for her final journey. People felt that the secret of his healthy long life was his discipline. 

Well! Now all the property aspirants felt that the only way to impress the great old Banyan was to follow the routine, be his shadow wherever he moved . Cook his favourite food , sleep and wake and not miss a single moment to be in his purview.

Mr. Kapoor was always warm and courteous to everyone. No one was his favourite nor he despised anyone. He was almost godly like they say , sun showers it’s light equally on good and bad, rain falls on both pure and sinful soul, the air moves with the same intensity on a garbage dump or on sweet smelling flowers. So was Mr. Kapoor . All he looked for was S- sincerity, D- discipline and C - character.

But unfortunately with lesser mortals the definition of SDC keeps varying and change as per their connivence. They have only three feelings - happiness, sadness or indifference. The Kapoor siblings, the cousins and other relatives nurtured the three  feelings in different proportions.

The elder son Roshan, was blessed for being always happy in spite of having a shrew for spouse, unruly children and nagging in-laws. 

On the other hand Sheela Kapoor the eldest among the daughters never missed an opportunity to be sad. If neighbours bought a new car, or she missed sale or heavy discounts, or even if her husband smiled at their dog, it was a cause of worry for her.  

The youngest sibling Ramprasad was Emily Bronte , the stoic poet. Nothing made him happy or sad. His wife once fractured her hand. All he advised her to stop eating till she recovered . His son failed his exams. He told the boy to repeat the grade until the school threw him out. All other relatives almost had more or less the same emotions. May be it was genetic.

Nobody dared to ask Mr.Kapoor about the ‘ WILL’. All pretended as if they had come to only know the well being of the elderly Kapoor. They wondered whether the Will was drafted or was yet to be written. But better to move along the flow and impress the old man.

Rani aunty, first cousin of Mr. Kapoor decided to participate in the morning meditation. The first day she couldn’t sleep the whole night and was the early bird to be in the meditation hall. Even Mr. Kapoor was surprised to see her. Eyes closed, legs crossed , sitting on the mat , there were more than a dozen relatives. In the pin drop silence of the hall, there was this sudden noise of loud snoring. Each one partly opened one eye to see Rani aunty sleeping in her meditation posture. 

Later, Nag uncle joined the yoga and while trying to bend his body, he ended up in a slip disc of his already bent back. 

About half a dozen relatives tried to jog in the park and after the first round started panting like a dog trying to cool its body with the tongue out on a summer afternoon.

 The property aspirants didn’t give up and continued to impress the octogenarian.

 Mr. Kapoor had the same neutral face without expression and didn’t acknowledge the hard work.

Almost a week passed. All relatives continued to compete with each other to impress Mr. Kapoor.

 One morning, mr Kapoor’s estate manager, Ramcharan announced that Mr. Kapoor’s Will would be read out at 5 A.M and all should gather in the meditation hall. Late comers would not be allowed. 

None of the members could sleep that night. Rani aunty woke up every one hour. Nag uncle put his head down and legs up, to avoid oversleeping. The lights were on in every guest room. If anyone slept peacefully, it was only Mr. Kapoor .

At 4.30 all the members lined up in front of the meditation hall. No one dared to speak or make any noise . All waited patiently like cranes standing on one leg near a pond to catch the best fish. Mr. Kapoor entered the hall. He looked at all his relatives. Again no expression whatsoever. 

He spoke in his rumbling voice” Dear family I am happy that you all came to know about my well being. I felt this is the right occasion to announce my’ Will’ and share it with you. But right now I am leaving for Benaras to spend few years on the banks of the holy Ganges. Mr. Ramcharan wKuldeep’s read out the Will. I take your leave. With folded hands, he looked at the dedicated relatives for the final time and left. Some stood up , some stood up half and some like Rani aunty were so confused that even before they understood, Mr. Kapoor left. All they could hear was the roar of his old 1986 model ambassador car moving towards the gate.

Once again every one sat with rapt attention for the ‘Will’ to be read out. Mr. Ramcharan adjusted his glasses on his nose bridge, cleared his throat , opened the brown envelop and took out the document. 

He started reading “ My dear children, cousins, and other relatives , I Lakshman Kapoor, son of Ram Kapoor hereby write my Will with utmost care and in my conscious state. I am under no pressure from any quarters. My entire estate situated on forty acres of land is the only property which I like to bequeath to all of you. Cash and Mrs. Kapoor’s jewellery is deposited in the bank which would be used for a foundation to run a charitable home for senior citizens. My car should be given to my driver Stephen. The house on the estate should be given to my manager Ramcharan for serving me almost for two decades. My children, cousins and relatives who always impressed me with their dedication towards the estate and me, I would like to give them my most precious, favourite......” 

The silence in the hall was now more intense. It might sound bit exaggerated but the truth was one could hear the eyelids blinking softly, the air moving in and out of the nostrils, hands and legs almost froze and necks craned at least three inches forward to hear the words.

“Uhmmm”, Ramcharan cleared his throat again and repeated, “ I would like to give away my most favourite and precious, my heartbeats, my life’s joy, the solace of my sad times... all the trees on the estate campus. Each member would get a pair of trees. They have every right to enjoy the shade, flowers and fruits. They have no right to either cut or sell them.  They have the freedom to donate to the members or employee within the family or working on the estate”

There was this big groan of disappointment among all. Like public who leave the movie theatre without bothering to read the titles of the crew, supporting staff or cast, all the members left the hall in a huff.  In the evening the Kapoor siblings, cousins and other relatives showed their magnanimity by each donating their share of trees to Michael, the old gardener. 

Next day like birds, all left the place early in the morning as if staying one more day would be wasting their time.  

The same evening Mr. Kapoor called up Micheal. The old gardener took the phone and in an excited voice spoke “ All your relatives are really sweet people. They donated their share of trees to me. Please advise me what should I do with the little wooden box buried under each pair of trees about which I was under oath not to disclose”.

Mr. Kapoor laughed, May be for the first time and spoke” it’s all yours Michael, enjoy!”

Who could have any way imagined that the cranky old man left treasure worth to support three generations in the little wooden boxes!!!