The house that built me – 4

The morning walk having been completed Babuji would return home to a fully awake house bustling with activity. Everybody would be up and ready for breakfast by now, the table would have been laid, and the children waiting. He would sit at the head of the table, always, and then others would sit according to their seniority. Thus it was that I often found myself sitting opposite to him, at the other end of the table; the tail of the table, so to say…

The men would sit on the right side of Babuji, the women on his left side…according to their pecking orders. And the breakfast would always be the same….day after day after day…..toast and butter and sprouts and tea and milk…..

And then everybody would disperse….to each his or her own, according to their schedule. Babuji would walk over to his office; by this time his clerk, Munshiji, would have already come, carrying his bundle of files on his bicycle, and opened his office and got his things ready. Babuji would go over the cases for the day with the help of Munshiji, and give suitable instructions – drop this case, we will not do it today, which court is that case posted in, have you kept that file with you, remember to remind that client to pay his dues….and so on his instructions would go. I would listen, eavesdropping on them, sometimes hiding in plain sight, sometimes loitering about in the office or the verandah….it felt good listening to them preparing for the day…they meant business, there was a purpose about whatever they talked. Babuji instructed, and Munshiji would nod his head or grunt his assent..rarely would he interject with a suggestion or two…or sometimes a reminder…

Munshiji!!! I always remember him being old…and thin and frail and fair skinned and upright and always with a tilaka on his forehead…Munshiji worked like clockwork…he always reported on time, kept all the files neatly and in an orderly manner, was mindful of his manners and rarely took leave…it was difficult to think of Babuji working without Munshiji…

And then after the morning office (rarely, some people would also come to meet Babuji so early in the morning), it would be time for him to get ready. While he took bath, Amma would take out his clothes, washed and ironed, and lay them on his bed neatly so that he could find them. But he would wear them only after he had done his pooja, had his lunch (yes, lunch time was 10 am in the morning) and was ready to go to court…and then, as always, he would shout – Madam! – when he was getting ready…he always needed help getting into his coat, and for adjusting his neck band, and for handing him the topee, and the stick and the small steel box with paan inside…

These memories, and more, rush to me, overwhelming me, washing over me, drenching me with a strange feeling of longing, melancholy, a sad happiness…but where did these come from…these memories which I never thought I had? They came from that house, the one that sits on the dusty old road which bisects the town which pretends to be a city….

To be continued…..

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