Bushra Alvi :
Sometimes all it takes is a paint brush to restablish family bonds. Retirement came all too soon upon mom. She was still so active, so full of life. A few months after her retirement, my sister in Cleveland, Ohio, called her over to visit and spend a long and lazy summer with them. But lazing around was not mom’s idea of a great holiday, she said, wasting her time doing nothing, watching meaningless soaps and indulging in idle gossip with the neighbours.
Mom made good her visit by giving “quality time” to my sister’s kids who were aged eleven and eight then. A regular schedule was drawn up and lessons in religious studies, knitting and embroidery were earnestly embarked upon, until the sixth day when the children, who till then had been quite patient, protested that this was not their idea of a fun vacation. One day they put their foot down. They were going to sleep in till noon!
Mom had no option but to relent, albeit grudgingly. Kids will be kids, she thought as she wandered into the garden surveying it all with a now critical eye. Mom loved mending, fixing, repairing, recycling and reusing things. I don’t know if she thought of the environment while doing this or simply did it out of sheer habit and couldn’t stop herself from doing so.
Along with beds to be weeded and shrubs to be pruned, mom’s critical eye identified a hundred and one things to be done that morning in my sister’s normally immaculate garden. The honeysuckle was trailing and mom thought she would tie it up with string and let it grow over the fence which had been installed just a few days ago. The fence too had to be painted and my sister had told mom to supervise Ron, the handyman, who would come in any day. It was when she went to the shed to hunt for string and some tools did she chance upon a large tin of white paint half hidden under a sack. Instinctively she reached for it, scoured the shed for a brush, grabbed a gardener’s apron and got started.
When my sister drove home from work that evening, she said she actually passed by the house as she didn’t recognise it with its wooden fence freshly painted, and only when a neighbour called out in greeting, “Nice work your mom did,” and she turned around and saw mom relaxing in one of the garden chairs, paint and brush by her side, did she comprehend what exactly had been going on that day.
Mom had spent the morning painting the fence in her garden!
Boy, o boy!
It was no mean task, especially for one who was at the “retired” stage of life. Mom had done a good job of it too, painting from both sides. This means she stood on the sidewalk while painting the exterior. Gosh, how embarrassing! The neighbours must surely have seen. My sister’s face suffused with colour. She would most certainly be at the receiving end of jibes. Thinking thus she walked into the house to be greeted by a sight even more astonishing. The table was laden with an assortment of dishes – baked, fried, roasted and steamed, a cheerful waft emanating from them.
“That one is from Aunty Sameena and that one from Christie. Mr. Walters’ sister sent the pudding…..” my niece rattled off. “They all saw Nanima painting the fence and thought she would love a treat after the hard work she put in.” My sister now felt ashamed of the thought that had crossed her mind earlier and went round and gave mom a tight hug accompanied with a loud, ‘Wow Ma, you’re great!”
Later that evening, my sister discovered her children and their grandma engaged in a read-aloud story session.
At the imploring tone, “Let’s read that bit again, please Nanima,” my sis looked mystified, until her eyes fell upon the book in mom’s hand. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER by Mark Twain!
“So that’s where you got the inspiration from, Mother Tom,” said she, rolling her eyes in disbelief.
“Yes, Aunt Polly!” three voices said in unison.
(Bushra Alvi is a writer, editor and translator based in New Delhi)
