How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and other Stories Read online

  There is a huge park in Moscow, known as Peace Park. In the middle of this Peace Park there is a large monument. There is a pillar, and on the pillar the different battles fought by Russia have been mentioned along with dates and places. The park has beautiful fountains. In the summer, flowers of many colours bloom and the place is a feast for the eyes. In the night it is decorated with lights. Every Russian is proud of this park and it is a spot visited by all tourists.

  The day I went to the park was a Sunday. It was drizzling and cold, though it was summer. I was standing under an umbrella and enjoying the beauty. Suddenly, my eyes fell on a young couple. It was apparent that they had just got married. The girl was in her mid-twenties, slim with blond hair and blue eyes. She was very beautiful. The boy was almost of the same age and very handsome. He was in a military uniform. The bride was wearing a white satin dress, decorated with pearls and pretty laces. It was very long, so two young girls were standing behind her holding up the ends of the gown, so it wouldn’t be dirtied. One young boy was holding an umbrella over their heads so that the couple would not get drenched. The girl was holding a bouquet and the two were standing with their arms linked. It was a beautiful sight. I started wondering why they had come to this park in this rain soon after getting married. They could have surely gone to a merrier place. I watched as they walked together to the dais near the memorial, kept the bouquet, bowed their heads in silence and slowly walked back.

  By now I was very curious to know what was going on. I could not ask the couple because they probably could not speak English and I didn’t know the Russian language. There was an old man standing with them. He looked at me, my sari and asked, ‘Are you an Indian?’

  I replied, ‘Yes, I am an Indian.’

  ‘I have seen Raj Kapoor’s movies. They were great. Raj Kapoor had visited Russia. I know one Hindi song, Main awara hoon. Do you know Moscow City has statues of three great Indians?’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi and Indira Gandhi.’

  Since we were chatting quite amicably now, I decided to use the opportunity to ask some questions.

  ‘How come you know English?’

  ‘Oh, I worked abroad.’

  ‘Will you tell me why that young couple visited the war memorial on their wedding day?’

  ‘Oh, that is the custom in Russia. The wedding takes place normally on a Saturday or a Sunday. Irrespective of the season, after signing the register at the marriage office, married couples must visit the important national monuments near by. Every boy in this country has to serve in the military for a couple of years at least. Regardless of his position, he must wear his service uniform for the wedding.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘This is a mark of gratitude. Our forefathers have given their lives in the various wars Russia has fought. Some of them we won, and some we lost, but their sacrifice was always for the country. The newly-married couple needs to remember they are living in a peaceful, independent Russia because of their ancestors’ sacrifices. They must ask for their blessings. Love for the country is more important than wedding celebrations. We elders insist on continuing with this tradition whether it be in Moscow, St Petersburg or any other part of Russia. On the wedding day they have to visit the nearest war memorial.’

  This set me wondering about what we teach our children. Do we tell them about the sacrifices of the 1857 War of Independence? Do we talk about the 1942 Quit India Movement, or ask newly-weds to visit the Andaman Cellular Jail where thousands lived in solitude and were sent to the gallows? Do we remember Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad, Shivaji, Rana Pratap, Lakshmi Bai who gave their lives to save our country?

  These men and women never lived to see an independent India. But do we have the courtesy to remember them on the most important day of our lives? We are busy shopping for saris, buying jewellery and preparing elaborate menus and partying in discos.

  My eyes filled with tears at the thought and I wished we could learn a lesson from the Russians.

  ‘Amma, What Is Your Duty?’

  At that time, my daughter Akshata was a teenager. By nature she was very sensitive. On her own, she started reading for blind children at Ramana Maharshi Academy for the Blind at Bangalore. She was a scriber too. She used to come home and tell me about the world of blind people. Later she wrote an essay on them, called ‘I Saw the World through the Blind Eyes of Mary’. Mary was a student at the academy who was about to appear for the pre-university exam. Once, Akshata took Mary to Lalbagh for a change. The conversation between them was quite unusual.

  ‘Mary, there are different types of red roses in this park,’ Akshata told her.

  Mary was surprised. ‘Akshata, what do you mean by red?’

  Akshata did not know how to explain what was red. She took a rose and a jasmine, and gave them to Mary.

  ‘Mary, smell these two flowers in your hand. They have different smells. The first one is a rose. It is red in colour. The second one is jasmine. It is white. Mary, it is difficult to explain what is red and what is white. But I can tell you that in this world there are many colours, which can be seen and differentiated only through the eyes and not by touch. I am sorry.’

  After that incident Akshata told me, ‘Amma, never talk about colours when you talk to blind people. They feel frustrated. I felt so helpless when I was trying to explain to Mary. Now I always describe the world to them by describing smells and sounds which they understand easily.’

  Akshata also used to help a blind boy called Anand Sharma at this school. He was the only child of a schoolteacher from Bihar. He was bright and jolly. He was about to appear for his second pre-university exam.

  One day, I was heading for an examination committee meeting. At that time, I was head of the department of computer science at a local college. It was almost the end of February. Winter was slowly ending and there was a trace of summer setting in. Bangalore is blessed with beautiful weather. The many trees lining the roads were flowering and the city was swathed in different shades of violet, yellow and red.

  I was busy getting ready to attend the meeting, hence I was collecting old syllabi, question papers and reference books. Akshata came upstairs to my room. She looked worried and tired. She was then studying in class ten. I thought she was tired preparing for her exams. As a mother, I have never insisted they study too much. My parents never did that. They always believed the child has to be responsible. A responsible child will sit down to study on her own.

  I told Akshata, ‘Don’t worry about the exams. Trying is in your hands. The results are not with you.’ She was annoyed and irritated by my advice. ‘Amma, I didn’t talk about any examination. Why are you reminding me of that?’

  I was surprised at her irritation. But I was also busy gathering old question papers so did not say anything. Absently, I looked at her face. Was there a trace of sadness on it? Or was it my imagination?

  ‘Amma, you know Anand Sharma. He came to our house once. He is a bright boy. I am confident that he will do very well in his final examination. He is also confident about it. He wants to study further.’

  She stopped. By this time I had found the old question papers I had been looking for, but not the syllabus. My search was on. Akshata stood facing me and continued, ‘Amma, he wants to study at St Stephens in Delhi. He does not have anybody. He is poor. It is an expensive place. What should he do? Who will support him? I am worried.’

  It was getting late for my meeting so casually I remarked, ‘Akshata, why don’t you support him?’

  ‘Amma, where do I have the money to support a boy in a Delhi hostel?’

  My search was still on.

  ‘You can forfeit your birthday party and save money and sponsor him.’

  At home, even now both our children do not get pocket money. Whenever they want to buy anything they ask me and I give the money. We don’t have big birthday parties. Akshata’s birthday party would mean calling a few of her friends to the hous