I am appalled with the events which are happening around us and how we are projecting negativity at every step. It is my belief that to step out negativity we should stop thinking, speaking about it much. It does not really mean that you are escaping from it but it means that YOU DO NOT ALLOW NEGATIVES IN YOUR LIFE. I always used to have sleepless nights when agitated and then I realized that thinking too much does not help, not thinking helps sometimes. You just give the problems some space and you get solutions. The rapist got his two minutes of fame with the interview. While the nation debated, the interview must have given ideas to some other perverts. So was the interview necessary, were the debates necessary?
Today I bring to you the first part of the story Savior. A story based on true life incidents and someparts of which the regular readers must have already read. It is a story of a family and their fight against odds. A story of courage and yes….positivity. So read on……….
Kittu ran. As soon as the bell rang, he ran. He had lots of work to do. The day was long and there were loads to do.
The rambling house of Dattatreya had scores of people living in. It was known that anyone facing a crisis whether financial or medical could turn to Datta saheb. And so the house held sixty- seventy people at a time.
Rukmini, Datta’s wife had a daily tightrope walk. Managing such a huge household was no mean feat. The food had to be cooked, the house had to be cleaned and laundry……….those were mountain loads.
Aayi (Dattatreya’s mother) disapproved of the magnanimity of Datta considering the meagre earnings. But somehow Datta was always able to placate her.
Datta had five children. The two daughters he considered his ‘eyes’. And his sons were his arms. The youngest was eight-years- old. He loved kids and excluding his five there were eight others in the house, with whom he enjoyed playing kabbadi. The neighbours would often see him outside his house running about with the kids, frolicking in the sand running after each other.
In short Datta’s heart was of gold. But then can one survive in this weird world in such simple terms?
Datta had a sister Gowri, whose desires had no limit. Call it chance or divine providence that her husband was no better. Extremely shrewd, he lost no chance in making a quick buck. Mahindra as was his name had been eyeing on Datta’s ancestral home for long. The ancient home enthralled him. The vast rooms, the open space always kept him scheming.
‘Gowri’, he called out one day, ‘Gowri don’t you feel stifled in this two room house. You were brought up in a mansion. Don’t these two rooms stifle you?’
‘Yes, it does, so….? Are you going to build one for me?’, she asked.
‘Not really but maybe I will get you the one that you love.’
‘Eh…is it? And which house is that?’ Mahindra gave a crooked smile, ‘Guess…. the house which you like the most’.
Gowri thought. The only house that came to her mind was the one with large windows, open balconies. A house in which she had run and played hide and seek. ‘But’, she said, ‘Anna lives there’.
‘Yes, he does but he may not live there for long’, he smiled shrewdly.
Some days later
Datta closed his shop and came out worried. The business had not been much. Buyers wanted more range of goods. Earlier people were happy with the few things they got now, they wanted choices. And to keep variety he needed money. But from where could he get money when he hardly could manage afloat. Managing a household of 60 was no mean feat. His two daughters had to be married off and he so wanted to take his mother on a pilgrimage. But for all that he needed money.
He went to the grocers who refused to give him any provisions until he paid his old dues. Datta was crestfallen. How could he face his wife and his family? Wasn’t it his job to care for his family, he could not see them starving.
He went to the moneylender of his area, who refused him too. He was at his wits end.
‘What Datta, what is the matter/’, it was Rajanna, Datta’s cousin.
‘Nothing’, said Datta.
‘But your face says something else. …..Money problems?’, asked Rajanna.
‘Yes…what to do Rajanna, maintaining such a large household is no mean feat’, said Datta.
‘Hmm, so he refused, ‘asked Rajanna pointing to the moneylender.
‘Yes’, said a crestfallen Datta.
‘Is it urgent?’ asked Rajanna.
‘I know someone who can lend you provided you can give some security?’, said Rajanna.
Datta thought of all the family gold, the copper vessels, the family heirlooms which he had mortgaged and asked, ‘Security… what can I keep as security?’
‘Let us see what he says, come with me’, said Rajanna.
Rajanna took Datta to a big trader, Shivshankar.
‘Anna, he is my cousin, Dattatreya’, said Rajanna.
‘Hmmm, said Shivshankar, ‘ Aren’t you the one who lives near the flower market’.
‘Yes, yes I am the one, how do you know’, said Datta.
‘Your mother and I are related’, said Shivshankar.
Datta felt a ray of hope. Maybe just maybe Shivshankar would lend him some money without any security.
‘So you need some moeny, is it?’, asked Shivshankar, ‘What can you give to me in return’.
Data felt the ground slip away from underneath his feet.
‘What would you need?’, asked Datta in a quivering voice.
Ultimately it was decided that Shivshankar would lend him Rupees Five hundred on the basis of the papers of the house.
Datta would have to repay the amount within twelve months.
(to be continued)