India is the
perennial land of guests! Yes, and that is one turf where no country, region or
place could ever beat us. The rate at which guests step in and out of our homes
on a given odd day, can easily put the European summer tourist trails, Dubai
immigration policies and even the popular club at a weekend to big shame. And
we desis being the poor old ‘atithi devo bhava’ maxim advocates, take it in our stride
and sanskaar to pay heed to all those random guests
and treat them right with all our might.
From heavy duty indulgent meals to giving
up our very own private bedrooms to sharing bath soaps (do not judge, I never
share a soap with anyone, but most do) to giving the family head-seat at the
dinner table, to letting them watch all their fave TV shows, to giving them
your cozy couch spot while you sulk on the floor, to giving up on your day’s
laptop ritual (ok games) for them to check-in to our homes and put up sucked
out holiday pictures on Facebook, to all the drama that fuddles our “routines”
for no good! And all this for the sake of keeping that one ‘guest of dishonour’
happy and kickin’! Well, if there’s anything that they are kickin’ on their
so-called holiday at our home, it’s just our butt!
When I got married and had the first guest
in my house, my mom frantically called me and was just a little short of
putting up a notice in the papers, as she warned, “Do not entertain guests
in your house! They get used to your hospitality and it won’t be far from now,
when their name shows up in your ration card!” I laughed off her suggestion and
covered up saying, “I’m just newly married Ma, I’m experimenting with my home
and discovering my new independent self. I’m sure I’ll get bored of it soon and
won’t let the guests in.” To which she retorted, “But that will happen when you get bored. And believe me, you
shouldn’t even wait until that guest routine makes you smash right off the
ceiling. Just keep them at bay, or else, you’ll end up being a younger version
of me, straight from the 80s until this day!”
Wow! Now that was some heavy advice. I
pondered over my mum’s precious words while I was preparing breakfast for the
same guest who was until then, hovering over my parent’s abode, and I was the
torchbearer of the gen next of my family. What kept ticking in my mind all the
while was that, my mum got married while she was a mere 22. Exposed to a
dynasty brimming with sanskaars (albeit only restricted to the
daughters-in-law and not the daughters), she spent a big chunk of her early
marital years under the in-laws administration. In a joint family of sorts that
saw guests checking in and out of the family home every single day. Distressed
with the drama, my parents made the finest decision ever of stepping out of the
family home into a small yet cozy nest in the city suburbs with their two lil’
chirpies (my sister and me) for their own good. While my granny chose to let my
mom depart without a valedictory gift, there’s one precious thing she sure
relayed… her guests! They just wouldn’t stop! While our family home was the
signature hotel for our guests, they were now enticed to its new subdivision in
the city suburb, where the guests could have an entire room for themselves!
Some promotion I say! The guests were ecstatic and we were not.
15 years went by and as we chirpies grew
up, my parents felt we needed a bigger space and one more bedroom was added for
our clan. The circus of guests was like a jinx on our family that prevailed. It
went on and on and on. And even to this day, it remains a major part of what my
family is famed for. But then I wonder… why didn’t my parents ever shut shop
and not let anyone enter their world ever! Why didn’t they do it? Was it really
that tough? Hell no! But my parents being the lovely dignified souls they are,
could never say no to anyone. While my dad felt that he was the older son and
should go on with the family tradition and not irk anyone so to say, my mom did
so under sheer ‘How can I say no to them? They should understand na!” burden.
While I am the contemporary version of my folks, I have deftly devised newer
ways of refusing guests these days and my how they work! Well, for instance,
just say, I’m out this weekend. Or, if they suddenly gatecrash, say, there’s
pest control scheduled for the day, or when nothing works, just tell them a
poker-faced NO right to their face. That works just fine!
Well, I don’t quite have an issue with
having guests over, as long as they don’t stay for long and are the people I
want to have home. But most people that do come over for a well-appointed
budget holiday, are the ones who will put on that fake smile (I can always tell
a fake smile & intention) and try too hard to be a part of your family and
get to know you better. That’s the kind of people I have a problem with. Who
just fake it all to evade pricey accommodations. It’s like they get paid for
staying at ours and are covertly unapologetic about it.
Of all the gazillion guests that have been
flittering around my parent’s home, there’s one peculiar guest who wins hands
down! The ease and finesse with which this guest slips into our home and a few
of his family members sprinkled annually, is simply phenomenal.
Say hello to Uncle Pao. He is my father’s
age old buddy. They sure had a gala time when in college, but later, parted ways and went soul and bread searching and were not much in touch for time immemorial.
Just a random phone call and family wedding invitations here and there. Well,
he did help my dad when he started out his business venture back
in the 80s, but what he’s received in return is mammoth- much more than the
money he invested in my dad and the interest my dad may have possibly paid him
for it. What he got, was ‘family’ instead. And why not, if you spend majority
of your city time with us, you are bound to know it all and see it all about
our family. Who else is there to discuss about the many family quandaries when
we speak of third person perspective. He was easily available to us and might I
say, had a keen interest in our domestic affairs.
When I was a lil girl, I knew Uncle Pao as
my dad’s friend. I still remember the first time he barged into our house. I
was about 12 and all alone at home, when the doorbell sang, nudging me off my
computer game, only to stare at him through the wrought iron door trying to
comprehend a face through that thick black beard. While I reckoned he was Uncle
Pao, I wondered why he was at my door in the first place. I let him in and got
back to playing Dangerous Dave- a game I was seriously addicted to. He
asked me to move over and plopped on the computer table as he began working on
the internet. I was furious! He asked me to make some coffee. I told him I
didn’t know how to make one. He asked for tea, and I said, I didn’t know how to
make that either. Even if I knew it, I wouldn’t have done the honours for a
traitor who stole my throne and was now throwing dictates at my face. I was
angry and bored. I settled for TV but never called it truce.
I didn’t see him for almost about 10 years
after that episode. Cut to 2008, he makes a midnight entry with his family only
to wish my parents a Happy Anniversary. He landed two hours early in the city
and waited at the station until midnight so as to make a surprise entry just in
time. And surprised we were! My heart melted. I felt, Uncle Pao wasn’t as bad
as I had thought of him in my earlier encounter. My sister and I got along very
well with him. With the age we were in and having a colossal task of
communicating issues to our parents ahead of us, we would often speak our minds
in front of Uncle Pao. He would hear us out. My sister & I were a huge fan of
him. Need I mention, my star craze fizzled out like any other fan out there? My
sister shared some of her major issues with Uncle Pao. Before migrating to the
UK, in her thanksgiving speech, she gave much credit to him for his
patient hearing when she was down and under and couldn’t communicate with any
one of us; and Uncle Pao would untiringly call her every single day and hear
her speak her mind. She stated, “He never said a word. It was just me doing the
talking and he letting me do it. He knew I wanted a patient listening ear and
that’s exactly what he gave me. No opinions and no charges.” Much later I
learnt that Uncle Pao had done this ‘you talk and I’ll listen’ bit with many
others too, at different levels (some sort of ‘strategy’ I reckon). Now that
explains why as of today, he can hear with only one ear. And the other of the
pair is essentially ineffective.
While my sister gives full credit to him
for the support, I too give him that. Kudos for the hearing work. After all, he allowed me to speak my mind, albeit
only when he permitted me to do so. When he called me, I would talk. Otherwise
I was just put off as too callow. I didn’t mind it then and considered him to
be the saving grace for my family who was even helping my dad mend his business relations with his brother. My father once coolly
stated, “My daughters have never, and will never tell me their problems.” That explains the need
for a certain Uncle Pao to step in and fan out his so-called magic wand on us. While my dad said so after bestowing full faith in Uncle Pao's precious foolproof advice for his daughters, he (my dad) was left with little choice when his daughters themselves chose to confide in a certain Uncle Pao. Not necessary I say! It’s a family’s biggest failure when they can’t even
communicate with each other and need a third party to do the works. Thankfully,
sense knocked in on us and we decided to refrain from depending on our house
guest for any further problem resolution!
With time, the Pao clan and our clan
mingled. We all were one big happy family who was doing it all wrong. The guest
of our home was now the best of our home. The gates were left far too open for
this guest, on whom we relied on for even the slightest sight of danger. Our dependency
on him had crossed the confines and we didn’t even realize it happened. Nothing
wrong with a friend who knew all about our familial issues, but depending on
one for it all, was by far the biggest felony. And this realization dawned on
me when I was directly hit by the wind straight up. That’s another story
altogether.
The cracks it has developed in our
relationship will surely be mended with time, but the lessons have been
staggering. I have forgiven, but not forgotten. And in retrospect, I wonder how
can we actually forgive if we can’t forget?
Post marriage, Uncle Pao was the first and
frequent guest of my freshly bedecked habitat. In exchange, I went for a short
3 day visit to his house just twice in two years. And what I saw of him there,
left me jarred. I saw this whole new person, who had ignored his family for the
longest time and was now trying to make it up to them in the oddest possible
ways and miserably failed at it. And when I say he was away, he was at my
parent’s home for most of the time attending to some apparent work in the city.
He was ruthless, uncaring, obsessive and pushy in his hometown. While he lived
in our home for the longest time, I felt I knew him so well. But what I saw of
him at his home, was another person altogether.
I chose to ignore that facet of his
personality and returned home. But everytime he visited us after, I could see
that same facet out there in the open where everyone could see it. Only my
family couldn’t. I couldn’t ignore it and prodded further. My series of
interactions with him only proved my learnings. What I learnt was that he was
only not really interested in our issues. He was the person who was at the edge
of tradition and modernity not knowing where to go. Also, he would never give
away his opinions on any matter ever. All he would do is agree with you at
first and then spell out an entirely different story to the person you wish the
message reaches to through him. And when quizzed about his opinion on a matter,
be prepared for a response that articulates, “This decision you made always
made me uncomfortable.” Well, then why didn’t you say anything sooner? And then
the trauma of dealing with a set of angry parents who were told an entirely
altered version of your decision even without your knowledge!
While he gave a patient ear to my sister, I believe, he could never really understand her core issues. He was only a facilitator.
The one through whom she would communicate with my parents. And ditto for me.
As for my dad, Uncle Pao always projected that he had my dad’s
back as the brethren issues prevailed, but in actuality, he was/is
biased towards my uncle too. And my dad is still juggling with issues despite having a so-called “friend aka support system” by his side,
whose guidance would have helped him resolve most of his issues with his
brother way before, given the fact that Uncle Pao was the mediator between the
two.
He was that boss lady of our house who we
would speak our minds to, and be under the impression that she would help us
sail through it all. But in reality, we sailed through our problems ourselves.
I never ever got any advice/solution for my issues to say the least. I only ranted my
issues in front of him. And he gave some vague ambiguous responses. (Ambiguity
I must say, is what he knows is his thing. A candid confession he once made and
I listened.)
Uncle Pao’s brother (the finance
whizz/new age nerd who is good with numbers, and that’s the bubble he lives in!) too helped us when in need. But the return on
investment was his brother (Uncle Pao Junior's) full stay including meals and
tourism while he visited the city for at least a week for 6 years in a row now.
As much distress it caused my mother, I was enraged when I did the math and
learnt that we were the loss making entity here. The "one-time help" he rendered, had now become a
guarantee of sorts that would bind us to serve these not-so deserving guests
who only forged their love for us.
My sister was visiting us recently with
her husband. Off the 24 days that she was here, she was at my parent’s for the
first 10 days, next 10 at her in-laws and the final 4 with us again.
Uncle Pao who takes full credit for making my sister’s wedding a reality, went
into a frenzy when she first broke the news of her India visit. His countdown on our WhatsApp group with smileys and the sundry was a start of sorts. It was rather
sappy and apparent that a "strategy/agenda" was being secretly harnessed. It wasn’t that he was just
plain happy that she’s gona be in town. There was a lot more than what met the eye. So, off the first
10 days my sister was with us, he meticulously planned a trip to our home that
lasted a grand 8 days of the 10. That basically left my mum and me with no
‘us’ time with the elder chirpie. While my mum was busy preparing “heavy
breakfast” for Uncle Pao, followed by scrumptious meals, she spent most of her
time slaving in the kitchen. And I was left with little space to inhabit my own
parent’s home cos there wasn’t much space to catch some Z's after a long
shopping day with the sis. After all, he was plonked on the couch where I could
have easily snoozed, considering my parents would occupy their room and my sis
and her husband the other. So I stayed for about four days but chose to leave cos
it was getting very uncomfortable and my mom would have at least one person
less in the meal plan. While it should have been Uncle Pao who should’ve backed
out and left to nurse his own family, I was the one doing the honours. Wait!
The best part is now. Uncle Pao Junior cancelled his UK trip because my sis made
the India plan, and he decided to visit her in India instead. Apparently, his
mood went mouldy when he learnt she wouldn’t be in town during his UK trip.
Hence the cancellation of all bookings… bla bla bla.. (Pssst…A little birdie
told me Uncle Pao Junior was to stay
at my sister’s for a “weekend”!)Talk foul play! He planned his India trip in
the second half of my sister’s Bombay sojourn that lasted all the four days.
Again I’m cast away from home as my mum is worried sick that she will be
hailing the kitchen and making meals for the Junior, and I will have to make
bed on the French window if I wished to stay over! (For the record, I didn't care about our house guest and stayed along with my sis and parents at that time and graced my parent's bed alongside mommy dearest while Junior snored to glory, giving some serious competition to my dad in the living room!) Altogether, Uncle Pao and
his family got a great deal of my sister’s time on her India trip and my
parents and I were left in the lurch, running helter-skelter hoping to steal
some moments with our older chirpie.
So here was our very own house patron
Uncle Pao and the chronicles of his stayovers.
Oh! And then there was this aunt who would
indulge in summer shopping scenes with her children at our home, that grand
uncle who hosted his daughter’s 5 day wedding affair with our home as base camp
and when he had a heart attack, his many heart blockages were thoroughly washed
out courtesy my mom’s kitchen specialities. Oh yes! And those many many visitors
who would excuse themselves for having dropped by to check on my ailing
grandfather. Most ended up having lunch or dinner with us as my grandad frowned on his karela soup. “Oh look, it’s too late to catch
that last bus home, we will leave tomorrow morning.” Permission could well go
take a hike!
Uncle Pao and the many guests we served
have been a true inspiration for me (to not be anyone’s house guest!), but what
I learnt from it all was real.
Guests are dangerous. Try not to invite
any home. At least not the same guest frequently. And if you still do, don’t
ever share your dilemmas with them, and moreover, owe them anything. It can
well be used against you. ;)
PS: To all you guests out there… You may
be a friend/relative. But I’m sorry, you’re not invited. You never were. So
kindly stay away from my soap, TV, dinner table, couch, laptop and most
importantly… my home!
