Gomathy Venkateswar August 14, 2001

Tags: Violence , Meditation , Family , Violence , Society

Daughters also inherit from their mothers an affinity for burglaries!

href="/tag/Delhi">Delhi in the summer of 1944. That was rather a cruel remark to a young bride, who in a joint family scenario was doing her best to adjust to her new environs, and please everybody specially her husband whom she had come to know for just over a month. These were early days and difficult days as well.
I just mumbled "I hope not" and walked out of the room, wishing I had not related that experience which I remembered so clearly even after the passage of 15 years….. ….. The memory rose like a haze in my mind……A Delhi summer which enveloped everything with its intense heat even by 8 in the morning, wartime scarcities, and a 5 year old child restless and cooped up at home, where the windows were darkened by dark curtains,to shut out the intense glare and heat of the day, with water in buckets kept under whirring fans that would cool the rooms somewhat.
Father had applied for leave at his office, which was hard to come by during this emergency period, to go to Hardwar and Rishikesh to spend some time at his Guruji Swami Sivananda's Ashram , and he came home early one evening telling Mother to pack and be ready to leave early next morning, as his leave had come through.
A buzz of activity followed. Both the cook and the ayah were to accompany us, as Father had rented a couple of rooms at the ashram where we could do our own cooking and house keeping for the week.
Both Father and Mother were devotees of the seer Swami Sivananda, whose Divine Life Society sent father regularly by registered post, books on Yoga written for the layman, and father's disciplined hour of meditation and Yoga exercises in the early morning , were under direct advice from the seer himself, and the books would arrive personally autographed to "Kailas and Parvathi", which were my parents' first names.
The train journey early next morning was exciting for a 5 year old, and it was towards late evening that we reached Hardwar, and then took a bus to Rishikesh. My mother had left the house in the care of Gangadin a young boy of about 18 or 19, who was the domestic help in our house , and had grown up in our house from the time his parents from Garhwal had worked first for my father in his bachelor days in Almora , and then in Allahabad, where I was born and grew up for the first couple of years of my life. The husband and wife team had faithfully served my parents, and then had asked my father to send them back to their village in the Kumaon hills. Gangadin at eighteen,had graduated to take over from his parents the domestic chores of our house, and was a pleasant and industrious boy, whom my father had promised that if he spent his spare hours learning to read and write, would try to get him a job in the government office.
Surjeet our landlord's daughter-in-law, and a friend of my mother's was given the Ashram's address and told to keep an eye on the house. The landlord an elderly Sardarjee had been a prosperous supplies contractor , and now in war time Delhi his sons were carrying on his thriving business. Surjeet was one of the daughters-in –law, who spent a lot of time with my mother, as they seemed to have a lot in common, as they had both been to college, and could converse fluently in English.
On arrival at the Ashram, Swami Sivananda welcomed us personally, and told us that if we were not too tired we could attend the Bhajan session before dinner. Mother who was a classical music singer and who broadcast regularly over the All India Radio, both Carnatic and Hindusthani music was specially asked by the sage to lead that evening's Bhajans, which my mother readily agreed to. After a wash, and enjoying the cool air around us we walked around the Ashram, and felt suddenly quite refreshed, and holding father's hand, we traced our steps towards the hall, which was slowly filling up with people for the singing and prayers.
Swamiji was sitting quietly, and one or two people would walk up and touch his feet in obeisance, and he would touch their heads and bless them. As soon as he saw Father, he asked "Where is your better half?" Then he touched my head and asked in Tamil "what is your name my child, it must match your parents surely?" I gave my name shyly, and he smiled. He looked at Father and said "Kailas, you have come here , so just relax, and enjoy the beauty of Nature around you. The Ganga flows by and she will take care of everything." Strange words it seemed, but full of portent as it worked out later as the story unfolds!
Mother sang so beautifully that evening that the people were carried away in their devotion. I too joined as best as I could in the devotional singing, drawing great comfort as I sat close to mother and touched her hand . Two days went by thus in this invigorating environment, and on the third day father was quiet and had a frown on his face, which Mother noticed, and told him not to fret about his work in the office which seemed so far away. Our daily routine was so pleasant , a bath in the Ganga sitting on the steps of the Ghat leading to the fast flowing river, as my mother would pour cold water over my head gathered in a brass Lota from the river flowing below the steps of the ghat. I would catch my breath as the icy cold water was poured over my head and I would clutch at my mother's hand crying to stop, and then continue sitting there, asking for more ! Then on returning to our rooms, there would be a hot glass of milk, jelabies, and hot puris made in ghee and potato curry. Our appetite was so enormous that all of us would consume great amounts of food at all the meal times. The cook we had brought with us was indeed kept busy, but he was so happy that he was there at Rishikesh , such a hallowed place, getting a bath in the Ganga 3 times a day, that he kept saying that all his wishes had come true, and he needed no further favours from life!
That evening at the Bhajan session, Swamiji looked at Mother and with a sweet smile said "Parvathi I am glad you have taken the burglary so calmly, and you have continued to stay on" Mother looked behind her to see if Swamiji was addressing someone else, but only Father was there, and he was frantically gesticulating with his hands at the Swamiji about something. Mother was totally stunned, and said"Swamiji, I do not understand, what burglary are you talking about, was there a theft here in the Ashram?" Father moved close to mother, and put an arm around her and said "No, my dear, our house in Delhi has been broken into, but there is nothing we can do. He then pulled out a telegram from his pocket and gave it to mother. It was from Surjeet which said " HOUSE BURGLED STOP RETURN IMMEDIATELY." Mother broke into a wail, and turned to Father and said "you have known it all along and you did not tell me, let us return now. I cannot stay here a minute longer." Father tried to calm her and said "We cannot do anything from here dear, Surjeet would have surely contacted the police who will do their best". But there was no stopping mother, she turned to Swamiji and appealed to him saying, "Swamiji, I am just a young houswife, who has over the few years of my married life collected a few material things which I value, I cannot become as detached as you, as to not want to return to my home and find out the extent of my losses!"
The Swamiji quietly replied calming my mother "My dear yes, you must return, but I can only tell you that the mighty Ganga will not let you down." He bade us good bye, but there was little comfort in us, and as for me I just held on tightly to my father's hand knowing something serious had happened.
We took a bus to the station that night, and boarded a train that reached Delhi at dawn. It was the fifth day after our departure for the week long holiday, and we were going back earlier than scheduled. I did not understand the extreme tension that prevailed, as my parents were not speaking to one another, and both looked miserable. In the train, I would sit first next to my father, and he would absently pat my head, then I would go across and sit and hold my mother's hands and squeeze it, to get her to look at me, and she had tear filled eyes. As we reached our home the next morning, my mother started crying, saying "I don't know what I will find left. I fear the worst." There on the doorstep Surjeet stood smiling which my mother took amiss, and whispered to my father "How can she smile at me at a time like this?" Surjeet caught hold of my mother's hand as she stepped off the Tongah, and cried out "Parvathi Mubarak ho, all your stolen goods have been found, and the thieves caught. How could Gangadin do such a thing!" My mother gasped, and said "Was it Gangadin then? " "Yes and also the upstairs Mr. Bhandari's servant, and both have been taken to police custody where they have confessed and are now in lock-up. A very strange thing happened, but first go home, change and come to my house for tea and I will tell you everything. You must thank me for recovering your clothes."
My mother was in a daze, she did not know whether to cry or smile, and father cheered her up by saying "God is Great".
It so happened , reconstructing the crime, when we were in Surjeet's house later in the day, that Gangadin and the accomplice working in the apartment above our house got together planning to slowly denude our house slowly over the week of our absence and then abscond. One of the reasons why we were desperate that hot summer to leave Delhi was the acute shortage of water as the Jamuna had sunk below its water levels, and house hold water taps had no water. The overhead water tanks remained bare and barren, and so the two thieves working over from room to room in our house were tying up what they thought valuable in my father's silk dhotis, and all of Mothers Expensive Zari Kanjeevaram sarees were likewise tied up in a large bedsheet, and all these they dumped into the empty water tanks on the terrace. Mother had a box of silver ware which she kept under the bed, and this was the last item they had looted, but these they stashed into the full rice and wheat bins which my mother kept in the storeroom next to the kitchen. As it was wartime, it was the custom for prudent house wives to keep their store of provisions always full, and so it was that the silver ware found itself at the bottom of these bins, as the thieves thought hat it was safe there for the time being.
On the day when these two thieves were planning their escape in the late evening, a strange thing occurred. The water that had seemed a dream to the householders started to flow back into the overhead tanks , and by the middle of the afternoon the tanks were full, more so by the floating bundles of clothes and the weight of the utensils brassware and shoes, and started to overflow from the tanks into the terrace floor, and slowly flood the terrace so that there was a steady stream of colored water flowing into the courtyard from the rain water drain pipes, of Surjeet's house. All of my mother's sarees were now a melee of colours and it was this strange mixture that was causing wonder to the landlord who rushed up asking everyone to follow, for there , bundles were floating above the water tank, and there was no stopping the overflow. It was as if all the days of water shortage was being compensated for this big surge of water into the tanks and water taps which were now discharging only colored water. Surjeet immediately pulled out the bundles took out the clothes which were sarees and father's woolen suits, his shirts and Dhotis and other items which my mother had all stitched with marker tapes showing KP. Surjeet cried out, "these are Parvathi's clothes, she has been burgled! Let me run down and see what has happened."
She entered our house from the connecting door from her side of the house, and surely the scene that met her eyes told the tale. The place was ransacked. She called the police immediately, who arrived very quickly and took the two cowering servants to custody, where they were given a thrashing and confessed to their crime.
Mother had lost and then found everything that had been stolen, but neither my father's nor my mother's clothes could ever be worn again. The Mighty Ganga had surely played her hand!
But the story does not end here, for as the daughter who was so much a part of that earlier burglary, I had to face a trial that left a traumatic scar , and no Ganga was there to erase that ghastly experience…. The predilection was played out again and over again in my life…..
…..Calcutta, and the year 1959, I was married and had a 6 months old baby daughter, and quite hard pressed as a 20 year old trying to fulfill the obligations of a daughter-in-law in a joint family scenario, where every move of this new family member was analysed for its motive, meaning and performance and end result.
The newspapers were of late carrying headlines of burglaries in the Alipore areas, where old stately houses belonging once to the English Tea Garden Managers, had now been bought over by rich Marwaris, who had bought over the tea gardens as well, in Assam and North Bengal from the British Managing Agencies, after the independence. The newspapers reporting these burglaries, would use the term "dacoity" an archaic term but it conveyed the deadliness behind the intent and accomplishment of the crime.
My father-in-law as a precautionary step had called the carpenters, had taken enormous trouble in installing iron bars with nuts and bolts to shut the wooden slatted doors at night, and it was a long procedure to go through bolting each one of these doors before one packed up for the night. It was expected of me to carry out this routine, and after going through with it, my mother-in-law would invariably check out once more. The big alsatian dog Jimmy would walk beside her as she did this.
November was cold, and the baby was nicely bundled in warm clothes and put to sleep in the cosy cane -work cradle next to my bed at night. The night lamp with the zero watt bulb was on, and warm water in the feeding bottle was lying under my pillow, to give my little baby from fretting at night, and also strongly advised by my mother-in-law as a solution to stop the baby demanding a breast feed at night. I was also told strictly by her, to get up quite a few times at night to let the baby pass urine on the floor near the bed by just saying "…Ssuuuuu…". and surprisingly the baby responded, and thus would stay dry and warm in her bed until morning. But my sleep would disappear for the night. I was still a fairly new wife, and the demands on the marital bed were still new and exciting….
It was the 30th November, and we had guests for dinner, and we had gone to bed late. The baby had kept me busy through the evening refusing to go to sleep, as she had been in the arms of the visitors for quite a while, and had well passed her bedtime. I was tired, and did not go through the nightly chore of bolting the doors.
As usual the baby's nightly needs were taken care of, and I took a warm shower and totally stripped snuggled close to my husband and covered ourselves with a thick quilt after tucking in the protective white mosquito net over the twin beds.
…….As in a dream I could hear my mother-in-law's voice shouting out my name and my husband's again and again with a desperation that jerked me out of my deep sleep. Automatically I looked at my wrist watch, it showed a quarter to six, and the light outside the window was still dark. Then again, I heard my mother-in-law saying "Please get up and see what has happened?"
I threw up the quilt, and realized my nakedness and slid under the covers again. I certainly could not get out of my bed like this, and where was my mother-in-law? Her voice sounded as if she was inside my bedroom. I started shaking my husband from my sleep, usually a light sleeper, he had to be shaken for quite a while before he was awake, and I whispered to him, "get me my housecoat from the chair, your mother is standing somewhere and calling our names desperately." "Was she calling? I thought it was a dream." said my husband as he got out of bed, and threw my house coat to me. I tied it round and slid out of my bed, and stopped in my tracks…… My Godrej steel almirah at the foot of my bed was wide open, and it was empty. My mother-in-law was standing at the entrance to my bedroom, and was staring dazedly at me and saying "Did you not close your cupboard, and did you not bolt your bedroom door at night?"
I kept staring at the empty shelves and said nothing, it made no sense, and my husband who had joined me said, "my Godrej too is wide open, but my suits are still hanging there, as also my camera…. His voice trailed away, he stood with his eyes widening at my almirah, which was totally ransacked.
Dozens of my wedding sarees, my jewellery in their velvet lined boxes, and my silverware were no longer there. Just the previous evening the guests who had come for dinner, were visiting us for the first time after my wedding, were eager to see some of the expensive sarees and jewellery which my parents had given me, and had admired the collection. I had put them away carefully after they left, and felt a glow of pride at the comments they had made at the choice of my sarees and jewellery. Yes, my mother and I had taken great care in selecting the wedding trousseau, and half of them I had not as yet worn, nor taken out the jewellery from their cases as there had been no big occasion to wear them .
I felt a tight knot at the pit of my stomach, and a lightness in my head. I held on to the mosquito net pole attached to my bed and started sinking on my knees. My mother-in-law's voice had a querulous note to it, as to why I had not shut the door to my bedroom that night. My husband led her out. The baby was awake and crying in hunger, and I picked her up, and remembered that I had got up in the middle of the night as usual , given her a warm drink, and also seen that she was not wet, and had kept her snuggled next to me for quite a while till I put her back in her cradle, but I also remembered that all this I did automatically without really being wide awake. I had seen nothing nor heard anything. My husband let out a yell. "They have entered from the bathroom back door and spiral case." I ran with the baby in my arms as if expecting to find everything hidden somewhere…. But instead found the bathtub in the bathroom half filled with water, and a pile of clothes in it all stained and dirty. I stared at them. They were my husband's clothes which he had worn to his factory that day, and they did not look the same anymore. They were smeared with black grease and smelly. I just kept pointing at them, with no words coming out of my throat. My husband put his arms around me , and led me away. The sight had unnerved me, and I was shaking visibly, I wanted to cry, but no sound came from my throat. My big steel cupboard was bare. It was as if I was bereft of everything precious. At that moment, I could only think of my mother, who over the years had so carefully saved money to plan every article that she could buy me, her first daughter for her wedding trousseau, of which she was so proud as she had displayed them to friends and relatives days before the wedding, and had heard their " oohs and aahs ", whilst she glowed wih pride. I was weeping for her. My husband's steel cupboard also in the room, was wide open, and the rows of woolen suits were there, so also his shirts and the Roleiflex Camera on the shelf, and his loosely flung rupees. "All there. That's not fair" I thought to myself. Why only my precious things gone?
Then I suddenly remembered : "Where is Jimmy?" The fierce Alsatian dog was sleeping on the drawing room carpet, actually snoring away. How could anyone have entered the house, and more so my bedroom without having had to confront this faithful dog, who had now learnt to position himself outside my bedroom, more so now, what with my little daughter as the new addition to the family. He adored her, and he would bark if she cried in her cradle, and I was busy in the kitchen. What had happened to Jimmy, he had not barked nor made any noise during the night. How did the intruders enter and leave without anyone being awakened by the dog? I kept staring at him sleeping, it was the same kind of drugged sleep that both my husband and I had been as we were rudely awakened by my mother-in-law's calling our names.
My husband had gone to the telephone to make a call to the police. The servant who slept on the terrace was coming downstairs, and I kept staring at him. He looked bright and perky, and that annoyed me. My mother-in-law asked him "Did you hear or see anyone last night?" He asked "Where?" I quickly interrupted and said "Thieves have broken into the house and stolen everything from my cupboard. You should have heard something!"
"No, Bahurani, I have not seen or heard anyhing. I fell asleep and have just woken up". He was not agitated, and had something like a grin on his face.. What was he grinning about? I wanted to smash his face.. My husband joined me, and said that the police would be arriving any moment, and they have asked that nothing be touched, as they would want to take finger prints.
I was desolate. My father-in-law, my mother-in-law and husband were in a huddle, and I was left out. I felt that the whole world was ranged against me. I wanted them to sit and comfort me. Even my husband had not expressed a word of sympathy. What was wrong with them? Didn't they know how I felt?
We heard the police van with its siren arrive. It was 7 am. My husband had called up the factory to say he could not come, and explaining what had happened. His colleague said that he would come soon and try to help. "How would he help?" I asked my husband in a choked voice, "Will he find my lost jewellery?" My husband said "Pull yourself together, you have to meet the police and answer their questions. Change into a saree" And he left to meet the police inspector climbing up the stairs.
The police inspector was led to a sofa, and he took off his cap and baton and put them on the coffee table. He looked around the room. Nothing seemed disturbed in the lovely room with its old world furniture, its glass case lined with books and the small ivory curios which were lined up in the curio case
along with small polished brass animals. On one side of the drawing room were the doors that led to my parent–in-law's bedroom, and just opposite were the doors that led to my bedroom. The thief or thieves had to come through this middle room to enter either of the bedrooms.
The police asked, "How many members are there in the family? Are they all here?" My husband replied " We are all here. My parents, my sister, and my wife., and my 6 months old baby. We have a servant who has his room on the terrace."
He wanted everyone to come into the room, and just then there was a loud knocking at our entrance door downstairs. I was about to go , when the police officer looked at his assistant constable, and said to him to look into the matter. The policeman ran downstairs and came running up again, and said that there were somethings downstairs in the landlady's garden that looked like articles stolen from our house. The old Bengali landlady was shouting excitedly downstairs, saying that some burglary had been committed, and the thieves had thrown some things into her garden! We ran downstairs, heart thudding, and we reached the spot where the police constable pointed out to us. There in a white towel which I recognized as the one that had been hanging in the bathroom after my bath, were about ten to twelve jewellery boxes tied up carelessly and some more in the bushes just under the spiral staircase that wound itself up to our bathroom. That was evidence enough of what all had been stolen. I knew that I would find nothing there, and turned back.
My mother-in-law and her daughter studying in Medical College, were being questioned by the police officer as I came up and entered the room. I kept standing, and wanted the police officer to begin. I looked at my watch, and realised that it was my daughter's feeding time, she was quiet, because she was in my arms, but would at any moment now start crying demanding her feed. I was undecided as to whether I should leave the room or wait for the questioning to begin. The police officer suddenly asked " Who noticed first that the house had been broken into?" My mother- in -law said "I did, as I do everyday to make the coffee for the family"
The police officer asked politely " How do you normally go to the kitchen, is there another way there, or do you have to go through this middle room?"
She replied "Yes I go by the other way through my daughter's room, and after I put the kettle to boil, I normally come into the middle room to open all the doors and windows, and that was when I found all the doors already wide open. I thought my daughter-in-law had got up and done what I usually do".
I was staring at the carpet, I was looking at a single key lying there. It was the key to my steel cupboard, and without a word went towards it, and picked it up and held it up. My husband took it from my hand, and said "Where is your key bunch, bring it here". I usually kept the keys under my pillow, and went automatically to look for it there, but did not find it. I was puzzled, then remembered that the previous night after dinner, the guests were wanting to have a look at my sarees and jewellery, and after putting them away when they left, had left the bunch of keys which were on a pretty silver ring with tinkling bells on the writing table , where the night lamp was still on, but the keys were missing.
I went back to the next room and told the police officer that the keys were missing. He had already got up and was examining the doors of this big room, and then he bent down and picked up another key, and handed it over to me. "Is this also from your key bunch?" " Yes, It is my husband's key and there should be three other keys as well." There were two other police constables who had come, and they were systematically going all over the house, taking finger prints, and photographs in my bedroom." They had entered the bathroom, and took out the clothes out of the bathtub, and they were talking in whispers to one another.
My father-in-law, who otherwise would have been quite vociferous was very subdued, but he asked "Officer is there any clue?" The police turned to all of us and said solemnly " This is another in the series of dacoities taking place in the city, and you all are very lucky, that no violence has taken place. There should have been at least 3 or 4 men yesterday night in the house, and both your son and daughter-in-law are lucky to be alive!" I shivered, and felt a cold fear go through me. Were they already in the room as we went to bed late last night, perhaps hiding under the bed, but the dog should have sniffed them out. The police officer continued " Are there any new servants in the house?" I was about to say "Yes Banamali is new", when my father-in-law interrupted quickly and said "No our servants are old, and they are very faithful."
" I want to take them to the police station all the same".
My father-in-law got agitated and said "No, no, I do not want that. There are two part time servants who come to clean the house later in the day for a couple of hours, and they will have had nothing to do with it, and Banapali is a young boy, who stays here, but I vouch for him as honest."
I was surprised at these statements, as I felt that with some questioning at the police station Banamali would say something that might help the police.
I wanted to protest, and at that moment my little baby girl let out a yell, and I simply ran out of the room to feed her.
The police officer was leaving, and I saw him at my bedroom door tipping his hat, as he said "I will come back again later in the day for a detailed list of all the things you have lost. Please keep it ready and a valuation of the total worth of the loss."
My husband led him out, and saw him down to the police vehicle. There was an empty feeling within me. There was a loud discussion going on in the other room, with my mother-in-law saying "The police officer is right we are indeed lucky, what if Raju had got up at some noise, they would have….” And her voice trailed away.
My husband came in just then shut the bedroom door, and held me and the baby close. I felt better. He said slowly " Do you know in the middle of the night, I wanted to go to the toilet and almost stepped out of the mosquito net, but there was an uneasiness within me, and I lay back again, and instead reached out my hand for the bottle of water for a mouthful of water and went back to sleep. Who knows it was a survival instinct that warned me to stay inside the bed!"
I said "Do you think they were standing at the head of our bed all the time, and how could they have opened both our steel cupboards and we did not hear a sound. You know what a noise that cupboard of mine makes on opening it… " But then my voice broke, "I have nothing left. Why did your father prevent the police taking Banamali to the station. I suspect him quite a bit. How did the thieves enter, if someone from the house did not let them know the details of our house. He would have spilled the beans had he received some knocks". My father-in-law coughed and cleared his throat as he entered the room " Do you want to have the eternal sin on your head of getting an innocent man beaten up in the police lock up?"
My father-in-law said this sternly to me looking at me directly as if challenging me about this statement . I hung my head and kept silent.
I was the victim f this terrible incident, and it seemed now to me I was being blamed for wanting the police to take our new servant for questioning.
I hoped the police were efficient and would come back and tell me they had found some leads that would help in recovering everything if not the dacoits.
They came back later that afternoon, and I had my list ready and they looked at me, and asked" Have you had them covered by insurance?"
"Please ask my husband , he will tell you."
My husband when asked said "No, we had not insured them, you see we have been married for just over a year and had not got about doing all this." The police interrupted him and said "From your wife's list the loss is quite heavy, and it is a pity you have not been covered for all this. It is rather foolish and I would say careless!"
At 19, I did not quite understand all this, and I heard my father-in-law making some explanations, and the police left saying to me as he left. "Madam I'll try my best to get on their trail, but these dacoits are inter -state operators who leave the city after committing the crime, and disappear into the jungles of Orissa."
I was in my room writing a detailed letter to my parents pouring my heart to them, and weeping as I wrote the description of my empty cupboard. My husband entered the room, and read the letter over my shoulder, and said,
" you should not shock your parents over this incident" I cried out "Why not, at least I will get some heart felt words of sympathy and sorrow, I have not heard a word escape from you or your parents or even your sister. She is as old as me and would surely understand my feelings!" He left the room without a word.. I heard his car start and leave the gate. I rushed to the window, but did not know where he had taken off..
It was a week before the police officer came once again to the house.. I was eager to hear from him, but he had nothing to say, and he left. The whole atmosphere in the house was mournful. Everything appeared mournful, my mother had called on receiving my letter . She wailed into the phone, and asked how I was and if the baby was alright, and if my husband was alright, and how lucky I was that those brutes had done nothing to harm us. She never asked about the loss of the sarees or the jewellery, or anything like that. I wondered if she realized that I had none of those gorgeous sarees left or none of those gold and precious jewels she had so lovingly made. I told her about the loss, and added that my husband had not had anything touched from his steel cupboard., to which she said "never mind, it is nothing compared to the precious lives that are still safe for us all."
About 10 days later, my husband returned home early from the factory, and called his mother and they went into my mother-in-law's room., and in a few minutes, I was called there. On the table there was an array of jewellery boxes, and my husband called me by his side, and said "I've gone and ordered these for you from P.B Sarkar the most famous jewellers in Calcutta. I hope you like them "
My mother-in-law was beaming, she said " I wanted to do this quite sometime back, but Raju seems to have done a one upmanship himself!"
I was looking at some exquisite pieces of jewellery, gold workmanship with rubies and pearls that I had admired on Bengali women, thick gold bangles called Kangans, and long dangly earrings that were heavy and glamorous. There were some other bulky packets as well, and my mother –in-law was opening them and admiring them as she spread out the heavy silk sarees on the bed. The colours were lovely, and I felt rather silly. All this for me.. I said, "I think Indu, your daughter will like some of these. Ask her to choose some of these too". And that did it. My mother-in-law hugged me and said "No one should have to undergo the torture you have been through. What a frightening experience. Forget it quickly" I hugged my husband and bent down to touch my mother-in-law's feet. My father-in-law from the next room said "You better have these insured before you do anything else. We had to have a burglary in the house before we got some sense in our heads".
There was a feeling of deep understanding settling into my mind and heart. I too had learnt something from this burglary. My preoccupation with my possessions had receded, life and being alive was more important. My husband had proved a point too, that material possessions could be replaced if necessary, as my husband had gone and done, but I realized how precious our three lives in that bedroom must have been to my husband's family coming out alive from that bizarre experience.