I walked into the arrival hall at Kolkata Airport balancing my bag on one hand and laptop on the other. As I walked across to the arrival lounge from far I spotted her. She was standing, leaning over the steel railing in front. It was 10Pm and mother looked frail, tired and all of her 69 years. Seeing me, her lonely eyes lit up like shooting stars in a dark sky. As I reached her, she quickly grabbed the bag from me and when she slung it across her shoulder it bent over with the weight. I hugged her and quickly got a trolley to take the weight off her shoulder.

As we walked out I learnt that she had been waiting there since 8Pm.  The scheduled arrival of my flight was 8.45Pm but she had to ensure that she was there, well ahead of me. I had insisted on her sending the driver to which she had replied “I want to come, it will make me happy. My daughter is coming, how can I just send the driver?” That had taken care of any further protests. She had obviously not eaten either as she wanted to have dinner with me, rather after I had my favorite dishes while she watched me. On the drive home I switched on the FM on the car stereo to the familiar chirpy sound of the RJ primarily to update myself of the latest happenings and events. The range of music in Hindi, Bengali and English played by them being the secondary reason. All Chennai FM channels nearly always play Tamil songs.        

I was home at Kolkata to spend the Bengali New Year (Poila Baisakh-14^th April) with mother not wanting her to be alone during all the festivities in the city. Catching up with all my friends, my favorite Bengali dishes as well as the latest films at Inox the multiplex, all part of the agenda. The day after I arrived, having spent the first half soaking in the warmth of being home and chatting up with Ma I went over to the office which I had left to go to Chennai. My friends there, so happy to see me would not let me leave thereby delaying my visit to a close friend who had invited me to a Bengali meal that turned out sumptuous asking me the day before “what don’t you get in Chennai. I’ll make that”.   

A few minutes after I reached my friends place she broke the news that in a month’s time she would be moving with her husband and son to Lagos. Her husband had accepted an offer as the CFO of a British firm to be located in Lagos (Africa). Though I was very happy for them, the news instantly made me sad too. Another close friend off to a faraway land and god knows when I would meet her next. Both her mother and mother in-law live in Kolkata alone and my next thought was on how they too would be all alone to fend for themselves. My friend assured me that both the mothers would be visiting them for long periods but I wasn’t convinced as my mother at this age is not comfortable staying for long in Chennai and Bangalore where my sister lives, unlikely that both her mothers would consider staying long in Africa.

The next day Saturday after another big lunch of a variety of fish available in the market at my cousins, I took my mother to the movie “U Me Aur Hum”. I smiled to myself when amidst all the song, dance and noise of the first half I found mother asleep. The excellent histrionics of Kajol and Ajay in the second half however held her apt attention. Kajol plays the part of a young woman suffering from Alzheimer’s and Ajay that of her doting psychiatrist husband. The next evening Bengali New Years eve and it also being Sunday I accepted an invitation to my aunt’s(mothers cousin), place for dinner. I always meet up with them on every visit to Kolkata.

Sunday evening after a usual lavish lunch at home I took mother for another movie at Inox.  Now one would think I was crazy to take my mother aged 69 years for a movie like Crazy 4. It was a thoroughly enjoyable movie. Mother was not only wide awake through the movie she seemed to enjoy it immensely too though was somewhat shy about admitting that she did. I am of the opinion that age is a state of the mind and has nothing to do with your chronological age. If you act young, you will begin to feel young too. I have always tried to encourage my parents, when dad was alive and Ma, even after that to dressing young, eating out, going out, enjoying themselves and living life. It is quite a difficult job with all the resistance they put up but their smiles at the end of it have been worth the effort.

That evening when I walked into my Aunts full house with mother, I was immediately drawn to the close family bond between all of them. Her husband, two daughters and their husbands along with four grandchildren were there. Luckily for my aunt, both her daughters are settled in Kolkata. They share every occasion and are a great support system to each other. On the one hand I was enamored by the pranks of all four kids ranging from one year to six years and on the other I felt really sad.  The thought of my mother living alone while her daughters lived in other cities saddened me. Why could we all just not live together I thought. My in-laws live in Kanpur while my sister’s in-laws live in Mumbai. Our jobs keep was all apart. 

Monday was Bengali and Malyali New Year and another close friend who is Malyali came over for lunch with her son. Now she lives with her parents who are settled in Kolkata with her son as she is divorced and in our conversation over lunch I realized that though she is not happy that her son is not able to live with both his parents, she is able to see the positive side of an otherwise unfortunate situation as she is able to be with her  parents in their old age as her sister lives in the USA and not able to come that often  Her ex husband is in Chennai and her son spends his vacations with him.

That evening Mother and I were invited to a party to celebrate the New Year at my father’s closest friend’s house a few houses away from mine. It was a fairly large gathering of about two hundred people or so and he has this Bengali New Year party every year ever since we were children and when my father was alive they planned the menu and made the invites together. For me this party was a very soulful affair as it brought to mind so many good memories of those numerous parties when my father was an integral part of all the arrangements. Nearly all the people present knew me or at least recognized me seeing mother with me and mentioned my father.  Everyone including the family of our host comprising of his wife, two sons and their wife’s and a grand child looked at me like they could see father and feel his presence through me.

Over the elaborate full course Bengali dinner, some people commented that it is so good that I had come to be with my mother as it is sad that she lives all by herself. Somehow they did not need to tell me. I knew that already. I knew mother would have to attend this function and didn’t want people to pity her loneliness. I wanted them all to know that we may be living away but my sister and I always have mother on our minds. I knew she was happy that people didn’t look at her sympathetically today. Lately I have noticed my mother has slowly become very sensitive and a recluse as she feels like she is a burden on people who tend to pity a lonely old woman. Every few months even if it is just for a couple of days I go to Kolkata and try and meet up friends and relatives with her.

The next morning she insisted on seeing me off at the airport, waving till I went through security. On my flight back to Chennai with a heavy heart I thought, the biggest fear one can have is the fear of loneliness and so often in their old age our parents are on their own in spite of having families and children. Here I am not talking about those children who abandon their parents but those that are unable to be with them because of their occupations. My mother does not want to leave the house she spent a life time building, living in with her husband and family or the familiar place but more so I know she is afraid that she will be a burden on us and not just financially.

I landed in Chennai both refreshed and cured of my homesickness but with a heavy heart. In a day or two in the mad, mad rush of work and life I will get over it and make the short calls to mother till the home sickness is so over powering that I rush back home once more. Sometimes I wonder if mother lived here in Chennai with me could I make it my home truly. I am not sure. My heart still is in Kolkata and perhaps will always be. In the meantime my mother lives at home alone while I am trying my best to make Chennai my home.