Mazda

Mazda

Happiness doesn’t come to us automatically,

It has to be created and recreated.....

All my life I had been pampered being a single daughter of my parents. Although my brother was also a single son, however I should confess that I was more pampered than my brother and I was a spoiled brat.  We belonged to an upper middle class family, a class which is rich but obviously cannot compete with Birla and Ambani and that’s why cannot be called rich. I lived with my parents and my younger brother in Jamshedpur, Jharkhand. Dad works in Steel city as a high rank officer. I don’t remember any of mine single demand which wasn’t fulfilled since my childhood and that’s why I have used the word spoiled brat for me. Yes, I was….. I didn’t understand the value of money, value of family, value of being together, value of each moment I lived. But I understood it....after existing in this world for 21 years, I understood how to live and be thankful for what I have received without asking for it, thankful for a life so beautiful..... Thankful for meeting Mazda.

After completing my graduation with Arts; literature, history and political science being my subjects (I love literature and wished to build my career in the same field) I planned to move to Delhi for my further studies.  Truly speaking, my purpose of coming to Delhi was not just the educational reason, but it was also one of my undue demands of asking an expensive car from my dad. He shouted at me for my extravagance. Upon denial and actually because I was not ready for this shouting, I got so angry that I couldn’t bear to spend one more day there with him.  Moreover, I had a good chance of taking admission in Delhi and thus I left. I remember that I didn’t talk to him even when I reached Delhi. After a week or so, I talked to him but my anger had overpowered that conversation. Our conversation confined to the expenses which I would be doing in Delhi, which directly reflected the amount he had to send me.

I came to Delhi to pursue my masters. I got admission for political science in one of the colleges of Delhi University. Although subject wasn’t much of my interest and was the third choice I had given in the application but then there were no other options available. I couldn’t get a hostel too as I was too late to apply for a room. My hunt for a room near my college started. I was well aware of my nature of not getting too much friendly with anyone soon and thus I wanted a separate one room set where I could enjoy my loneliness. After a search of 6 and half days I finally got a house near my college (2 kms away, not that near). It was a private bungalow of a Punjabi family. The family which consisted of wife, husband and their 3 children (2 daughters and a son) stayed in the upper floor while I stayed in the ground floor.  There was a basement for car parking and a small room, which I suppose was to store the accessories of generators, motors etc.

It took me a week to fully set in that 2 bedroom flat. My classes were yet to start and thus I would spend late afternoon and evening in the terrace with not a very panoramic view of road and a small but scenic garden attached to the bungalow. It was owned by my house owner. Often I observed that six children used to play in the garden who entered the bungalow after playing. Three of them looked foreigners and they talked in some other language with each other but with the children of landlord, they used to talk in English. The children were well behaved and wouldn’t make a lot of noise and thus I never felt disturbance. Later I noticed that these children go to basement after playing. After some days I got to know that the room which was supposed to store accessories of generator and motor, owing to its no-ventillation and no air- service, serves as a home for a family of four, a mother and her 3 children, 2 sons and a daughter.

Her face was tranquil. She was not more than 25 or 26. There was not even a tinge of make up on her face but someone has well said “beauty lies in simplicity”. She was exceptionally beautiful. Her thin body frame and snow white complexion had enhanced her beauty.  She had dark brown eyes, a legacy which was passed on to all her children.  Her straight nose and thin pink lips were as if that she was moulded from a machine by an expert engineer without any mistake. Although I am not a very amicable person, however I had an urge to meet her, to talk to her ... to know about her. I first confronted her while I was taking a move to my college and she was going for her work.

“Hi..” I said. “I am Titiksha. I live in first floor.

“Hello... I am Mazda”. She smiled. She had covered herself from head to toe except her face which was visible from half of her forehead to chin.

“You are going somewhere”? I asked

“Yes... to my workplace, a chemist shop near by. And you?”

“College”. I replied back. She invited me to her house sometime. I accepted it happily.

Next Sunday at about 11 in the morning, I went to basement and knocked the door of her room. It was her daughter who opened the door. She smiled at me and called her mother “mauther.... Aunty aste”. She came out behind the curtain wiping her hand. Smilingly she offered me to sit. There were two mattresses in the room, one arranged horizontally and another vertically making a L-shape in the corner of the room. Other than this there was a small TV, a fan and a light in the room. There were two racks one of which was filled with books, most probably of her children and on the another rack there was a small decorative box and two photo frames, one consisted of a photo of her three children and another had a photo of her with her husband I guess. She was looking extremely pretty in the photo. Room was completely covered with carpet and there were no film of dust anywhere my eyesight reached. I could also see a small space divided by a flimsy curtain which worked as a kitchen. Bathroom was at another corner of the room. Since there was no ventilation or window for external light and air, light and fan of her room was on giving it a night effect. Although my measurement is not that strong that I can measure the room but one can comprehend size of the room by the fact that other than above mentioned belongings, there was not a place to keep even a single stool or chair. The empty space in the middle of the room beside the mattress was enough for 3 persons to sit on the floor. She got tea and some biscuits for me. I had only tea. It was very different from what we drink.... a bit similar to green tea. I left within half an hour. She and her children spoke in English with me.

I got to know that they were from Afghanistan and was residing in India as refugees. She explained that they had threat to their life from some powerful forces and thus they fled to India. It was clear from her conversation that she had a luxurious life in Afghanistan.  In front of her children and understanding the fact that this was my first visit to her house I didn’t feel like probing into details. However her living condition had provoked a thought in my mind about how gruesome situation must be that she was forced to stay in such a small room.

We often met now....while going out, while coming back, while walking after dinner. I had invited her many times but she couldn’t get time and often she apologized for that. One Sunday afternoon she came after lunch time. When she entered she looked at my big hall with a capacity of accommodating at least 30 persons. She had no emotion on her face but I felt guilty of wasting so much of resources when a whole family has to survive in a room which is not bigger than my bathroom. Truly speaking.... I had never thought in this way.... I was startled at my thought... my sudden change of views and perspectives. I made coffee and we both sat on sofa. I told her about me and my family who were in Jamshedpur. She asked me about the subject I had taken in master. She told me that back home she had studied till 12^th and had studied science. And thus it was easier for her to find a job in a chemist shop as she understood the composition of the medicines.

That day she went down the memory lane and shared her life experiences. Her husband, who was working with an American company as a second class officer, was killed by Talibans. Mazda started teaching to small children back home to survive, but within a fortnight she had received a letter threatening her to leave her job. She continued because she had to die either way. Once while going to school, she was abducted. There was an attempt of rape. She managed to run away. That was her last night in Afghanistan. With the help of some smugglers, she arranged to cross the border illegally leaving her 3 storey house and a farm of dry fruits, keeping a hope in her eyes that someday, when there will be no terror of Taliban, she would come back with her children to her house, to her farm.

She kept quiet for a moment. “That’s life. One or other thing goes on. And we have to accept it. Past is now a past for me. It left me and I left it. Present is important for me. I have my three children and I have to shape their future.” She smiled.

A whole beautiful life slipped from her hand and she smiled. I remember the car incident and a loud discussion of why should I be having it with my dad and felt bad about it. We feel so overburdened with our problems that every other issue seems small. We get entangled in lot of issues...oh sorry for wrong word; we entangle ourselves with lot of issues and sometime no issues. We get so desperate that despite of looking for solutions, we keep on thinking about severity of the problem and stop smiling and stop living. I saluted her... a lady who fought every situations with panache. She had made her big problems so simple that the severest of severe problem looked small to her.

“I have heard little about Taliban.... what’s their main agenda? How do everything started?”I was inquisitive.

“It all intensified when US military command, greatly concerned at the increasing soviet intrusion in Afghanistan, chose to support to the hilt the rabid fundamentalist group, The Taliban. The endeavour met with tremendous success, the Mullahs leading the Taliban annihilated ruthlessly the Left leaning elements and took total charge of the country. What ill luck, they now turned on the American and waited to drive out these foreigners, too, from their country. American troops were killed in huge numbers. Americans optimistically organized some sort of democratic election and installed a government of its choice in Kabul. But the Taliban continue to give them no peace; the fundamentalist are in control of most of the country side and organize every now and then daring raids targeting strategic spots in Kabul itself. The US response is to further intensify bombing; scores of more people are dying every day, the country lies in ruins, animosity towards the American mounts. Innocent Afghan people are suffering.*

(*Courtsey:  Newspaper Telegraph dated 11^th Dec 2015, Page no-12)

Animosity between countries has ruined life of common and innocent people. Now ISIS has emerged as more powerful than Taliban but the torture continues. Even if they triumph over Taliban, for common people it would be like jumping out of the fire into the frying pan.”

“Hmmm... How do you know all these things”. I was startled at her knowledge.

I don’t know the P of Indian politics. I added

“You are lucky that you don’t have to know all these things. I wish Allah never shows you such day that you need to get knowledge about all these things. By the way...you have taken political science as your subject.... right?” She asked

“ Ya, but that was my last choice” I replied innocently. She smiled.

“What was your first choice?”

“ Literature, I like literature... but couldn’t get it. Missed the deadline by two days” I replied.

“ political science is an interesting subject. Once you start giving time to it, you won’t like anything else.” She loved talking about studies, about surroundings, about politics. She was a sensible lady with a balanced personality.

“ How do you know English? Even your children speak fluent English. You studied in convent?” I had asked once while walking in the garden.

“We learnt it here. There is an NGO which supports refugees through various means. We have learnt it from there”

“That’s nice!!!”

“Ya, we are grateful for that, I remember some initial days with no money, no food and no knowledge of language. But... it passed.” She didn’t say it was painful. I loved this about her.

“Now I know a bit of Hindi too, my children don’t know. But they would soon learn in school”. She was happy to inform.

How she used to get happy for every small things... how she used to decorate her small home.... how she used to be excited for a small gift if she bought for her children. Although, I should be removing every “small” from the statement as it was big for her... very big. I remember the marks of my first class test, I had scored 73 out of 100, not bad but about more than 12 classmates had scored more than me. If I was that old Titiksha, I would not had paid any heed to it, but now I was happy. I had called dad and shared my marks. He too blessed me and said that if I continue like this I can leave everyone behind (Considering the fact that I didn’t like political science).  It is such a joy to make someone else happy. And it is such a joy to be happy for every good thing life gives you.

I remember when I had shared with her my main reason to shift to Delhi (about the scolding dad had given). She had smiled and said that she should be thankful to my dad that he created that opportunity to introduce me to you.

“I was very angry that day when he scolded. Although I am calm now but I still get upset when I think of how dad scolded me for such a small thing.”

“First of all it was not a small thing, it was a big thing. Ask how big it is who cannot afford a cycle.”.

She was not pointing towards herself. It was not in her habit. But I was ashamed. 15 lakhs..... its actually a big amount.

“That’s true that he should not have scolded you but convinced you about how you are wrong”, she said “ but you shouldn’t keep grudges for so long. It makes the relationship bitter. I am sure you love your Dad... love goes along with respect and trust. You should have respected his decision”. I realized my mistake.

“Titiksha.... means forgiveness right? I liked your name and I googled the meaning”. She didn’t add a word but a big silence to it and another lesson for me to learn.

She had come to my house that day. She had taken leave from her work. She wasn’t feeling well. After resting a bit, she came to me. I prepared two cups of tea and we were enjoying it in the warm afternoon of December month in Delhi. Suddenly her phone rang, which was kept on the centre table. A number displayed on phone which started with +93. The number was of Afghanistan.

“Balai” She received and spoke. There was a female voice from the other side. I could hear little bit and comprehend that.

“Chutur aste khala jaan, khub aste (How are you Aunt? Are you fine?). She was chirping like a bird. But then suddenly her face was ashen and drawn in a look of pain. She kept her phone down on the table and closed her eyes pushing herself on the chair. I held her hand.

“I had a big house in Afghanistan, which I had to lock and run away. I was always hopeful that one day I will return to my house, after things and situation would ameliorate. Last Night Taliban ransacked my house and today morning they burnt it”.  I could sense the whiff of sadness in her tone.

I brought a glass of water for her. She took a sip of it. I knew that was not the right time to dig that issue. I wanted to console and change the subject but she stood to go.

“Sit for a while with me. Why you have to rush.” I had asked her.

“This is my Namaaz time”

“Mazda... why do you offer 5 times Namaz religiously? What has Allah given to you”

“Same thing which god has given you... blessings and wisdom. I have to thank him for the life he has given me to spend with my children, I have to thank him for introducing you where I could share all my issues, I have to thank him that I had breakfast today morning and I have to thank him to make me capable so that I can arrange dinner for night. I have to thank him that I and my children were not there in the house.

I wonder is this the situation which has made her rough and tough or she was like this only. I respected Mazda for everything she was doing but mainly for her courage, for her unabatable enthusiasm to fight with the odds and keep floundering.

She never asked for any support and neither liked if I offered any help. She had politely asked not to offer eatables to children when I had started giving them biscuit and chocolate daily. She told me that I want my children to understand the situation and grow.

I remember that night when she had come to me to ask for INR 15000. She had tears in her eyes. Without me asking anything she told that Aja (her youngest daughter) has high fever. She has pneumonia and need to be in the hospital for 3 days.  I gave her money and went to hospital with her. Doctor told that she had hypoxia and thus is kept on inhaler. We saw her from a small window. She was lying on the bed unconscious, unruffled. I turned back, Mazda was murmuring something. It was Ayat of Quran I suppose.  Her ashen face had turned dark yellow. She looked at me and smiled. I was surprised but smiled back.

“Aja will be alright”, she said. God has been very kind to me always and I have always trusted him for his kindness. He cannot prove himself wrong. Aja was back home within 4 days. I am not an atheist but this time I am sure that it was her belief more than the blessings of Allah. She returned 5000 rs in the same month and promised to return all the money on an installment basis. I told her not to worry actually I didn’t want to take it back but I knew she would not like it. She started returning 1000 every month and spent two more hours outside to arrange for this extra money. She didn’t tell me anything but landlord told me that she has taken some job in a beauty parlour nearby. She washed utensils and cleaned the parlour at the end of the day to earn little more and return my money. I felt very bad.

I finished my masters and had started applying for M.phill. I had also got a job in Mumbai and thus was preparing to shift to Mumbai. I had 8 more days to go and I had started packing things. One evening, after her work she had come to ask whether I need any help. I knew I would miss her, I invited her to dine together at my place. She refused but I insisted. Finally she agreed. I also forced her to sleep at my place along with her children so that we could talk late at night. It was a weekend next day. I ordered sweets from outside and prepared chicken, fried Rice and roti at home. I must say, I hadn’t had better dinner than this ever. Looking at her children’s face who were enjoying the meal was gratifying. For some moments, there was no tension on Mazda’s face. It was a bliss. After the children slept, I took out my clothes to arrange in a suitcase and made her sit on sofa. Although she asked to lend her support but I told her to rest.

“will you miss me?” I had asked her

“very much.... hope we will be in touch”

“Yes... but ofcourse. What about your resettlement”?

“Allah knows”

“All the best.... wherever you will be, you will always be happy”. I said from the core of my heart.

“Thanks.... I wish you decide to do double masters and spend two more years with me... may be this time in English literature”

“good idea...” and we both laughed.

“I am very worried whether I would get admission in M.phill or not.” I told her.

“If you have hope, you can cope with all the problems.” Platonically she had summarized her entire ideology in a sentence.

She had hope in every circumstances, when people fall and break, she stood for her children.

“What is the meaning of your name?” I had asked her once.

“Wisdom”. She told

“You have been named aptly” I told. She smiled.

If I had to mention what I learnt from Mazda, it would take a life to explain that actually I learnt the meaning of life from her.

I remember when I was 4or 5 our teachers used to make us pray

“Thank you god for world so sweet, thank you god for food we eat, thank you god for birds that sing, thank you god for everything”. This was just a 4 lines for me which I used to recite daily in the school to please my teachers, but could never understand it. Now after 19 years I recited it again from the core of my heart and I am thankful to Mazda to make me understand the meaning of this poem. I am thankful to god to shower her blessings on me ever. I am thankful for the sunlight which enters my home because there are some home which are not that lucky. I am thankful for the wind which I enjoy very much, because people die in its absence. I care about people and value the meaning of my name.

It’s been 2 years and I am in touch with her. Her children are studying in a private school nearby under underprivileged quota. She has not heard anything about her resettlement as yet. Sometimes when I ask that why don’t they resettle you, she says very politely “May be somebody needs it more than I do.” I am again startled at the courage of this lady. Now I don’t waste food because I understand that somewhere some Mazda would be fighting to get food for her children. I celebrate togetherness with my family because I understand that when family is not together, how painful the situation is. I understand that if my brother, who is now an engineer or my father comes late on my b’day, it’s not their choice, they might be doing some extra work for me or my family. I understand that happiness is from within and it comes from togetherness and not from materialistic things. That car is no more in my wish list.