Sajivan was the youngest of four brothers and had a little sister Jyoti. The children lived in this small but select cove with their grandparents who raised sheep, goats, hens, ducks and cattle.They also tilled and farmed the small plot of land leading a quiet, secure life.
Jyoti was just too little, maybe a week old when his mother abandoned them with her parents and left for Bombay as the older children lived with their father. The family in Bombay never reached out to them ever again.
The story starts here.
The elderly couple whose only daughter had run off with the senior Meteorological representative (who had been deputed to set up a rain water measuring instrument in the remote location) were worried and tense.
It had been a long decade since she had left them and they had no idea where she was or the kind of life she lead.
Then one night she was at the doorstep with a tiny boy and pregnant, almost due-In fact she collapsed and the little girl was born right before their eyes.Worn and exhausted the mother seemed semi conscious for almost a week, and then did the disappearing trick again - this time leaving behind her two babies.
Not a word about her life, family, future......she trusted them to do the right thing.
They were in their fifties - strong,capable and god fearing.
Accepting that the good Lord knew best, they took the infants into their hearts and nurtured them.
Life teaches us lessons,they had hopefully learned theirs.
They were more tolerant now and loved the infants,cherished them,taught them every thing they knew. Village life in simple minimalistic surroundings meant hard work,knowing Nature,living
Their life centered around the children who grew up strong ,well cared for,loving,obedient and self sufficient.
The task seemed colossal,the old man now in his early sixties sometimes looked up the vast canopy of branches and sighed,but they enjoyed life and never questioned the effort and love they cherished on the little ones.
The children went on to high school nearby and came home during the weekends.The grandparents now in their seventies
needed looking after and were not able to fund the education.They jointly decided to pawn the gold and jewellery as well as a large tract of land to pay for the expenses,School days were done and college meant going off to the big city which they feared as they had lost their daughter there.
Fear overcame them and they had to explain why they were unwilling to let them go on to pursue their future dreams.
The family sat down and talked,The children understood for the first time that they were with their grandparents and wanted to connect with their parents.
Sajivan had topped the qualifying exams. He had just been admitted into an Ivy league University.His search to locate his family and siblings paid off when he traced them to a remote location in Kurla,Mumbai.
He set out to go beyond the state boubdaries for the first time to seek his mother .The vague memory of her holding him and shielding his tiny body against the fierce downpour and the fact that she had entrusted his sister and his future to her parents was his only hope that she cared.
The train journey was long and tiring ,seeming endless.The 3 wheeler dropped him in a filthy locality,mostly dominated by barbers,fisher mongers, footwear vendors..the street was noisy,narrow,dirty and he had no idea where to search or whom he would ask for help.
He quietly asked for the chief and informed his reason and who he was looking for.
Mohammed Salim, a Government employee who worked for the Meteorological Department at Colaba was all he has to go by.He did not know if his mother was married to him or who his father was,so he said he was a relative from Kerala and inquiring on behalf of his relatives back home.The throng of devout Muslims who had gathered for the evening prayers discussed quietly as he stood watching.
Prayers over,the senior member of the assembly beckoned.
He was invited in and asked a lot of Questions.He answered honestly.
They informed him that a family who lived far off in a shabby hutment along the Railway track, fit the description.
He was led away in the twilight.Not knowing what to expect,he stopped to buy some bananas,apples,a carton of milk.They would need it anyway whoever they were,he reasoned.
Should he call out?
Will she be there/what would she look like/how would she react/would she welcome him in or refuse to accepy..the thoughts made his head swim....
The smoke from a coal open stove was all he could see.The small form huddled over blowing the embers as she heated a dirty pan caught his attention.
'Amma' he called out gently..not wanting to scare the lonely ,scarred,pitiful lady who had somehow saved the life two of her children.
She turned to look at him and he knew without a doubt that she was the same loving mother who had decided that her parents would protect and nurture at least two of her children.
The same gentle eyes of his grandfather,the profile of his grandmother,her look conveyed that she knew he would come looking for her.
Come sit down and tell me everything,she said quietly in his mother tongue.
He embraced her and they wept.
After her return all hell had broken.His father who already had three more wives had discarded her.
She somehow managed to feed and keep the family together but his brothers,used to abuse and ill treatment since birth knew no other way of life.She worked as a maid and fed them for as long as she could before one by one they walked off and now she was alone,staying on the street.
He gave her the fruits and milk,she seemed overwhelmed.
I have come to take you home, amma.
He drank the tea,they ate the fruits,he slept by her side in the dirty,worm infested hovel ,promising himself he would leave the next day.She was firm,she would not go back as she suffered from tuberculosis and malnutrition and did not deserve their love.
He patiently explained that God forgives everyone,She would be admitted to the Municipal ward,with the help of the Mosque clergy,receive treatment and they would return when she recovered.The story would be that she was widowed and the older siblings were in the Gulf countries as this was partly true ,at least about one of them.
He joined the IIT Campus at Vikhroli, where he had secured a merit scholarship with full fee waiver and a stipend.
His stay at the dormitory meant he could use the money he earned tutoring fellow students to pay for the treatment and medicine.The recovery was slow and at the end of four years,she was stronger both in health and spirit as she had taken a course in tailoring and now was adept in marking,sewing and tailoring fabric.The bond between mother and son grew.
Sajivan had his engineering degree.They both boarded the Trivandrum Express from Kurla,the evening sun shone and the departing train faded into the twilight on the way home to forge a complete family of grandparents,a prodigal daughter , and grandchildren.
Her heroic act had saved the two children from a life of abuse,poverty.
Her parents had been given a new lease of life.
Her children had grown up to be decent,upright citizens.
She smiled gently,the train swayed hooting its way home...
She closed her eyes as the soul left her body,at last free of worries, now that her two youngest had found their way in Life.
They would remain Sajivan Menon and Jyoti Menon the children of Radhakrishnan Menon and Satya Menon who had brought them up,taught them to live and love.
She had made her peace with life.
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