(Image credit – pixabay.com)

Vijayamma stood before a writing table and was wiping an old flower vase with a cloth. It was a bud vase and was made of red clay with hardly any artwork on it. It needed just two blooms of 15 cm long stems to fill it. She heard footsteps and turned towards the entrance.

“Suresh! At last! I thought you were never coming.”
“How are you, Mum?”
“How is Vidya? Is she doing well in her studies?”
“Mum, she is in the final semester of her MBA. She is in two minds regarding her further studies. Mum, she has sent a small gift to you.”

“Suresh, you better have a seat.”

Suresh sat before the writing table and kept his backpack on the table by the side of the vase. He took out a hanky perfume bottle with the tag 'To granny with love' and gave it to Vijayamma.

“Oh, it is so nice of her. Is Smitha still working? Are you both getting on well?”

“Yes, Mum. She is in the same job with that Community Health Programme. She thought of coming along with me, but you know... Mum, look at this Kashmiri silk.”

“Wow. Lavender colour. I love it. My daughter-in-law has great taste. She unfolded the saree, placed it on her hand and then carefully folded it and kept it on the table. "Suresh, I'll make tea for you.”

Suresh looked at the flower vase without any interest, and then his attention was drawn towards the self-help group literature kept on the table and the posters on the wall with the headlines, Functional Literacy, Self-Employment and Working from Home. He then turned his head and looked at the framed and garlanded photograph of his father. Vijayamma brought two cups of tea and noticed that Suresh was looking at his father's photo. She said, “Today would have been your father's birthday.”

“Oh, I remember it Mum.” After two sips of tea, Suresh said, “Mum…” He paused.

Vijayamma looked at him intensely. She thought he must be troubled by some pressing problem. She observed that he had put on a lot of weight. The hair on his head had thinned. At 46 years he looked 50 plus. Was the trouble so serious that had such an impact on his health, she wondered. As a sign of assurance, she touched his hand. “Suresh, are you facing any hurdles in your career? You must be finding it tedious to continue as marketing manager...so much travelling and all that. I understand that there are many good opportunities for middle-level managers on other fronts too. You can think of relocating.”

“Yes, Mum, I have plans.” He cleared his throat. “Mum, you are staying here hundreds of kilometres away from us. Smitha often reminds me ....”

“I must thank my daughter-in-law for her concern but Suresh, you know I can't ...”

“I know Mum. You can't live with us in that Bangalore city apartment.”

“I just can't imagine that.”

“The other day I visited Teresa's Home for the aged on the outskirts of the city.”

“Teresa Home! Suresh, are you telling me about homes?”

Suresh looked away. He kept the teacup on the table. “During the daytime, the inmates can work in the canteen, reception, lawn, housekeeping department or clinic. You can also teach.”

“Really! Suresh yesterday your childhood friends Raghu and Varun enquired about you. How about visiting them? Meanwhile, I'll prepare dinner for us.” 

Suresh thought that he should not press for her instant consent. He should leave her alone for a couple of hours to contemplate the idea planted by him in her mind. After two hours Suresh returned, took a bath, and changed. He switched on the TV and started changing the channels. He didn't watch any one channel for more than two minutes.

“Suresh, dinner is ready. Shall I serve at 8.30? I don't think that your dining habits have changed.”

“No, Mum. It suits me. I should tell you more about Teresa's Home. They have a dormitory system and you'll never be alone. You'll always find someone to help you out when you need it most.”

“Dear, I can understand the spirit behind your suggestion but, this house...”

“Yes, the house. That is the whole problem. You shouldn't sacrifice better conditions for the sake of this old house. You'll feel free once this is sold.”

“Suresh!”             

“In the course of time, this detached house may turn into dead capital. We can invest the sale proceeds in mutual funds, or you may even think of buying a policy for Vidya.”

“Living in this house gives me a sense of continuity. This house is full of memories of your father. I tell you that I am not attached to the objects but to the feelings they carry with them. Look at this flower vase. It may seem to be dull and unattractive, but I preserve it as it is your first gift to me.”

“We should change...”

Vijayamma ignored his words. “I am not idling away my time. I am busy running an adult education centre and empowerment programmes for women. Be assured that I am leading a happy, peaceful, and purposeful life here.”

“Don't you think that wasting time and money in the name of social service is foolishness?”
Vijayamma signalled that she didn't want to continue the conversation. "It is dinner time. I prepared your favourite dish brinjal curry paired with coconut."

“Dinner? I just don't care. You, old people, can never understand our ambitions.”

“Suresh!”

He dragged his backpack from the table. It hit the flower vase. The vase fell on the floor and broke. Suresh didn't care. He stepped on the vase and walked out of the house. Dazed by his behaviour Vijayamma collapsed into the chair and stared at the broken vase.

           ****

Ranga Rao, the municipal commissioner of Anantapur inaugurated the flower show arranged on the premises of St. Francis School. The headmaster of the school introduced the teachers to the commissioner. Teacher Grace explained to him the various design elements that had gone into the arrangement of the flower show.

“The flower show is the highlight of all the annual events in your school this year,” the commissioner told Teacher Grace.

“I am glad you liked the show. My student Suresh stayed with me the whole day and helped me.”

“Is it? I should see the boy.” Ranga Rao patted Suresh and said, “Well done boy. Do you know how many petals a rose flower contains?”

Suresh looked at teacher Grace. She was simply smiling. He then turned toward the commissioner and said, “My teacher didn't tell me about the petals.”

“Do you know what an éclair is?”

“Oh! It is a small finger-shaped pastry cake, filled with cream and iced with chocolate.”

“Did your teacher tell you about éclairs?”                                    

“No.”

“You see, we try to know things in which we’re interested. Most of these roses contain five petals.” The commissioner patted Suresh again and then walked towards the headmaster's chamber.                  

At seven in the night when all the visitors left the premises, teacher Grace called Suresh and said, “The municipal commissioner, our chief guest, is happy with our work.”

“Yes. He even patted me.”

Teacher Grace laughed. “In memory of this event, I'll give you a present. Guess what?”

“Milk chocolate.”

“Oh, no.”

“Pen.”

“Not so simple.”

She picked up a small flower vase with white roses in it and gave it to Suresh. “This is small and lovely. Do you like it? Can you carry it home?”

“Oh.”

“No. I should come with you. I want to visit your mother.”

“My mother will be happy to see you. She is also a teacher.”

“She may ask you about the flower vase. What will you say?”

“Ms. Grace loves me, and she has given it to me, and I love you and I am giving it to you.”

“Fantastic.”                    

Vijayamma spent hours simply staring at the broken flower vase. When her back started aching she came out of her thoughts. Memories of the childhood days of her son would leave a tug in her heart, she felt. She slowly got up and went into the dining hall. She sat at the dining table and shook her head as if she were disapproving of herself. She opened the refrigerator, drank a glass of water, and went to bed.

The next morning Vijayamma collected the broken pieces of the flower vase in a dustpan. When she was about to pour the pieces into a trash bin she hesitated and pulled back her hand. Later she transferred the pieces into a tray and kept it in a cupboard.

               **** 

Smitha criticized Suresh’s inability to convince his mother. However, after a prolonged discussion, she agreed that Vijayamma was independent and tough, and they should find new ways to gain her confidence and gradually her acceptance. The unexpected phone call from their daughter Vidya raised a new hope in them. Vidya refused to contribute in any manner to their secret plot. After a lot of persuasion, she agreed to broach the subject of selling the house with her granny if she found that the granny was wasting their family resources in the name of service. As planned, after six months she made a phone call to her granny and told her that she had finished her MBA programme and she wanted to relax till the results were announced and her parents were going somewhere to work camps. As expected, Vijayamma asked Vidya to come to Anantapur and stay with her.

For a few days, Vidya studied the lifestyle of Vijayamma, her attitude and her likes and dislikes. She concluded that assisting in her work would be the most effective way of gaining her confidence. She accompanied her granny to the garments unit, papad and pickle-making units started by self-help groups of women under the guidance of Vijayamma. Vidya gave tips to those entrepreneurs on attractive packaging, effective use of word-of-mouth publicity, procuring raw materials at competitive prices, selling products online and digital payments. This impressed not only the entrepreneurs but also their mentor Vijayamma.

Suresh who waited patiently for three months for the opportune time called Vidya and said, “Hurry up. The house may slip out of our hands.”

“Dad, is it fair?”

“We don't know what is in her mind. She may donate it to the self-help groups or even turn it into a community hall. Get the transfer deed signed by her. The papers are in the brown envelope I kept in your travel bag.”

That day Vidya took out the brown envelope from her bag and read the transfer deed. She felt disturbed. At that moment, Vijayamma called her for lunch. She quickly pushed the papers into the envelope and went into the dining hall.

“Vidya, have one more spoon of brinjal curry. This is your father's favourite dish,” Vijayamma said.

“Granny, Dad’s childhood must have been great with a wonderful mother like you. Where did he study?”

“St. Francis. It's just a five-minute walk from here. Like to visit the school?”

“Yes. All the teachers of his time must have retired.”

“Yes, but at the request of the school management, teacher Grace rejoined the school as a student counsellor."

“Is it? Are you in touch with her?”

“Yes, we are good friends.”

“Then I must visit her. She will tell a lot of things about Dad and you.”

After Vidya left, Vijayamma had a nap. She heard the windows rattling and got up. It was raining and it was windy too. Rain splashed through the windows into the living room. Vijayamma closed the windows and moved into Vidya’s room to check the windows. She noticed that the envelope kept on the table was wet. She quickly closed the window and wiped the envelope with her hanky. She pulled the papers out and started wiping them. She was surprised to see her name on the papers. She read the document and the contents shook her. Her head started reeling and she almost collapsed. At that moment Vidya rushed towards her and held her gently.

The next day, Vidya sat before the writing table and joined the pieces of the flower vase. She painted the vase and gave it a few final touches. She kept the vase on the table and then filled it with a bunch of roses. She then ripped up the property transfer deed.