Country Roads Take Me Home .!!

My house in Clement Town(Dehra Dun) has seen many ups and downs .I remember it in the 60ties as being the hub of affluence and social focus.It belonged to "Doctor Kain",a very prominent and visible man  .Its a beautiful  bungalow but  now past its prime.When Mr Lumsden sold it to us in 1960, it was called “Anchorage”.My father changed its name to “Guro Bhavan”,naming it so in honour of my mother .

At different  times ,it had different  occupants .When my father moved into a government accommodation ,the house  became the office of the ONGC  for its drilling project at Mohand –which is  just about 7 kms down the mountains near the Rajaji Game sanctuary .It also doubled up as a school –Shalini Preparatory School .When my father passed away ,we shifted back into the house –Guro Bhavan.But soon we all left in different directions to eke out  our living and handed it over to Uncle Sumra who looked after it with great care .Unfortunately ,Uncle passed away on Christmas day last year – His widow ,Aunty Sumra lived  there for sometime trying to brave it out ,but could not cope with the loneliness and old age .Subsequently ,Alzheimer consumed her , we shifted her out and sent her to her relatives in Hyderabad .After struggling for nearly two years without Uncle ,she passed away on the 9th of October 2013 .Ironically -it was a day when i left India for Dubai .It was as if she had acknowledged the fact that her duties of looking after me were over .!! The house is now run down ,empty (except a ceiling fan in one of its rooms)and a lonely reminder of the days it once had seen .I still remember,very, very vividly,many many years back ..................

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 Guro Bhavan  was a stand alone bungalow  on the Subhash Nagar Road .It was the first bungalow as we turned into the post office road from Subhash Nagar .Gen Shabeg and Seth Pannalal built their bungalows much later .Just before Guro Bhavan ,used to be a small pond and next to it a open field .We used to play cricket there and sometimes someone would hit the ball into the pond !!Of course the batsman would be declared out ,but anyone wanting to volunteer  to retrieve the ball would be given an extra innings !!In the duststorm of my memory ,i can still see Timmy Ploma hit the ball into the pond and quickly run to retrieve it .And when Glenn Miller protested as Timmy took guard for his second innings , saying that 2 innings were only for the fielders and not for the batsman irrespective of whether he retrieved the ball or not ,Tim blurted out "You dont know the rules of the game .And you need not know it because you are never going to be a beneficiary -you cant  hit the ball so hard and you have never volunteered to retrieve the ball " Ha Ha !!Dont know where Tim and Glenn are now .Tim went off to Perth and Glenn went off to England .And Glenn did go into the North Sea -not to retrieve cricket balls but oil !!Would love to meet them .!!
 Our house  had a beautiful verandah which ran half way across the front .It had 8 rooms and 6 outhouses .It had a huge lawn on which i learnt to play cricket .It also had a water clock in the front .! There was a gravel road which led the visitors to the front door of the house .All around it were beautiful flowers –my father was particularly fond of sweet peas and hollyhocks .There were about a hundred trees –mostly mangoes ,guava,anjeer ,and a fruit  called “chakotra” in local parlance .In English its called “Pomelo” .It is like  a big lemon almost the size of water melons .I also remember in particular three  trees –the red weeping willow which was near the fence of our house adjoining the main road ,the "jamun" tree which was always very popular because it  bore very sweet and juicy "jamuns", and the Jacaranda tree which was near the front entry to the house .My younger sister and me used to climb the Jacaranda very often . It used to flower  during spring and in autumn it would shed its leaves and purple flowers .Once we saw so many leaves and flowers being shed ,that I remember saying  “See ,its crying”!! Our uninhibited movements became slightly more sedate when she had a fall from one of the branches .The jacaranda had taught me a important lesson –being rash is fun ,but it also brings with it risks.

The house was decked at its best for the marriage of my eldest sister .I still remember it being bathed in lights .And in those days my father spent(wasted) enough money to have a illumination of moving lights which caricatured  a man garlanding a woman –the “jai mal”,as we call it .And as for the crowds!! –it was as if the whole city had congregated to Guro Bhavan .I remember my father playing the perfect host –very debonair ,very charming and very alert .My mother kept by his side .We were too young to take over any responsibility –we were too interested in entertaining our friends and cousins .

In the evening ,the lights of Mussoorie twinkled in front –a  glorious uninterrupted view bcoz there were no buildings high enough to block them .And in the winter months –we could see the Himalayas clothed and draped in white and trying to kiss the blue skies –the snow looked  so white ,and  beautiful and the sky so blue and tempting. My father would take us to the hills where my cousins stayed (they still stay there ,next to Ruskin Bonds cottage –infact Mussoories most influential people ).Lovely birds would  chirp  throughout the day ,and I have never seen so many butterflies and “jugnoos”,in my life as when we used to stay in Guro Bhavan .In short –it was a fairy tale living .

Things changed .Clement Town changed .The beauty of Clement Town caught the eye of the people .It was invaded by outsiders .And the entire character of the place changed . We grew older ,we no longer climbed the Jacaranda tree,the weeping willow grew old and the unrelenting termites ate into her 60 years old trunk,a storm did her in one day .The jamun tree started to grow too big for the new electrical wires and the electricty department cut it down .The twinkling stars of Mussoorie got hidden behind ugly unplanned buildings ,and one could no longer see the snow clad mountains .The trees no longer attracted the birds ,and when humans encroached on the Rajaji Game sanctuary ,the monkeys made their way into our compound .About 4 years back ,a leopard came visiting Clement Town .!!It created panic .The police and the wildlife authorities were informed .I don’t know what happened subsequently.

I visited my house in November last year .I went to meet Uncle .I was told that the once Hammer Thrower for India ,was slowly fading away from life .I entered the gates of  house .It looked very dilapidated .My car came to a halt beneath the Jacaranda tree .I looked up at it .?Where and which one was the branch from where my sister had fallen off?Could not make out .There were some lovely purple coloured flowers on its branches .The tree looked old but beautiful .A squirrel dashed up and down its main trunk,and looked at me as if i was a intruder .There was a breeze that rustled  through it –ah a bit like old times ..I entered Uncles room .

He looked very frail .But he recognized me in a jiffy .!. “Kulu,I have been waiting for you.” He mumbled .And then made a effort to get up .

“Chhotti,bring the whiskey”he said (Chotti is the name by which he used to call Aunty).

“No uncle ,I don’t drink now .And its only 10 in the morning.Maybe next time after sunset !!”,I said .

He looked at me and replied “Boy ,for me the evening may not come”.

I was stunned into silence .Memories of him dancing,of him taking me for patridge  and water duck shoots ,of him and me driving to Delhi and Ludhiana ,and of him ,lifting a steel trunk above his head to load it into a tempo –all came flashing back.Surely ,the curtain was about to fall .I reached out to him.His hands were cold .He whispered “One for the road Kulu”.And then those words –“You have to think of selling Guro Bhavan now .I dont have much time left now .And none of you wants to stay here”.

Uncle was dying ,Clement Town as i knew it, was already dead .I was reminded of a poem of Javed Akhtar

mujhko yaqin hai, sach kehti thee,

jo bhi ammi kehti thin,

Jab mere bachpan ke din thae,

 chand mein pariyan rehti thee

 ik ye din jab sari sadakey roothi roothi lagti hain

ik wo din jab ‘ao khelen’ sari galiyan kehti thee

ik ye din jab jaagi raten deewaron ko takay

ik wo din jab shakhon ke bhi palken bojhal rehti thee

ik ye din jab zahan mein sari ayyari ke baten hain

ik wo din jab dil mein sari bholi baten rehti thee

ik ye ghar jis ghar mein mera saz-o-saman rehta hai

ik wo ghar jisamen meri budhi nani rahati thin

Uncle passed away peacefully in his sleep on the 25^th of December .I could not attend his funeral .I did not want to see his dead body .I lack that kind of courage .But I do remember ,the last time I left Guro Bhavan while he was alive .I had stepped out of his room .I knew my professional commitments would not have allowed me to meet him again .I stood beneath the Jacaranda tree .I looked up .I searched for the moments and the birds .Suddenly a gust of breeze ruffled its leaves and the purple buds .And they rained on me .I did not brush them off my hair or my jacket.It was as if Guro Bhavan was applauding me and showering its blessing .I also remember telling myself –“See Kulu ,its crying”!!. Suddenly a squirrel ran up and down a branch and looked me in the eye.Was it pleading me to stay the night and leave the next day as Mom and Dad would have done ? 

And then  a small flower fell into my eyes .It brought out the tears .After many years ,I was bonding with something that had dared to stay there without any of us –the Jacaranda tree .It was teaching me another lesson

“Cry if you must –but don’t you quit”.
It also taught me another lesson .Dont invest much of your heart in men and women who will pretend they love you .Its better to invest it in animals and trees .They are more loyal, -even if they cant say "I love and i admire you".And they dont desert you even if you leave them .!!