Coming Of Age

by Urmi Chakravorty

Urmi narrates Asha’s story which spans two and a half decades and is at once both humorous and poignant. In the course of her journey, Asha experiences two life-changing, defining moments which teach her valuable life lessons and the art of letting go.

Two and a half years was a major turning point in the life of any kid, as Asha gathered from her experience.  The moment her tiny tot Dhruv stepped into this crucial stage of his life, she was flooded with gems of wisdom and advice from other conscientious parents about the need to put him to school. Two and half years was no age for a boy to be at home under mama’s wings, they said. After all, even he needed to widen his horizons and enlarge his social circle! Her husband also seemed to approve of their neighbours’ well-intended advice. Till then Asha had never seriously thought of putting him to school at such an early age and the very idea of her baby being away from home for three hours every day put her off completely. As is wont in most single-child homes, she was extremely particular about her son’s hygiene, meal timings, cleanliness and so on. Besides, she had never left him alone (read ‘without Mom’) on any occasion and had thus committed the highest sacrifice of missing out on Ladies’ Club meets and important parties! So now she thought of possible excuses to stall the ensuing disaster – what if someone poked him with a pencil or ate up his food, she argued. Her husband quite nonchalantly replied that he was, in fact, more worried about the reverse possibility.

What followed was a series of gloomy evenings during which the husband exercised his finest verbal skills to convince Asha about the unique features of the nearby playschool and why their precious one should attend it. Finally, she relented, though half-heartedly. The one person who was totally unaffected by all this commotion was the child in question. Watching the little boy unruffled and busy at play, Asha’s heart wept; how on earth would he cope with the alien world outside and the monsters therein?

The next ten days were spent trying to prepare the youngster for the big event, the main areas of focus being self-reliance, good manners and learning to use the three golden words – ‘please’, ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’. Finally, the D-Day arrived; little Dhruv was duly bathed and readied for his first day at school. He bore a valiant look as he scrutinised his new acquisitions – a gleaming new school bag, a tiffin box and a water bottle. The necessary formalities in the school completed, all parents were asked to leave the premises and come back after two hours. Surprisingly, Dhruv curtly returned Asha’s timorous ‘bye’ and calmly went to his classroom with the other wailing kids. Asha was slightly taken aback, but she reasoned that he probably didn’t realise the actual significance of the situation.

These two hours proved to be the longest ever in Asha’s life. Her husband decided that they would go to the shopping arcade nearby in an attempt to keep her mind diverted. Never had the mannequins looked so lifeless, never had papdi chaat tasted so bland –her heart let out a thousand prayers as a host of apprehensions clouded her mind. The husband dutifully tried to be patient, humorous and romantic (in no particular order) but failed miserably in all his attempts.

At last the dreaded two hours were over and they went back to school. Out came their beaming son, waving goodbye to his new teacher. As soon as she scooped him up into her arms, he began to relay a torrent of information about his newly acquired friends and their antics. The teacher proudly told them that Dhruv had not cried at all, and in fact, had felt quite at ease in the new place. Asha’s maternal pride was a wee bit hurt, but common sense told her that their little boy had come of age. At that moment she realized that it was time to let go…of the all-encompassing influence of the parents over the apple of their eye, of the precious cocoon that they had so carefully ensconced him in. It was time for their fledgeling to flap his wings and take flight – his first faltering steps outside the comfort of the nest, in a bid to prepare for a longer sojourn across vast, unknown spaces and unannounced challenges.

***

Twenty-two years flitted by and the prodigal son had completed his studies and grown into a strapping young man, all set to mark his place under the sun. Years of dedicated hard work had borne fruit, and Dhruv, now an engineer-MBA graduate, landed a job which beckoned him to foreign shores.

College formalities completed, Dhruv came home for a well-deserved break, his joining date being exactly a month away. The mom in Asha went into overdrive before he landed; she dusted his room for the umpteenth time and prepared a mountain of sweets and savouries. ‘Thank god for Dhruv, even I get to enjoy these treats for a change!’ the husband quipped, one eye on the newspaper that he pretended to be absorbed in, and the other, trying to gauge her reaction to his well-meant jibe. When Dhruv finally arrived, work began in earnest: shopping lists were made, pored over and modified multiple times – after all, this was no college hostel that he was headed for where all the necessities were pre-decided and provided for, however mundane and mediocre they may have been. Dhruv was now a rightful member of an elite organization and would want to have a bachelor pad that was not only well-equipped but also boasted of some style and panache!

The next few days saw a series of hectic shopping jaunts, meet-ups with family and close friends, and a lot of packing and unpacking (after all, paying for extra airlines baggage was not a particularly palatable idea). Asha loved the way Dhruv calmly and patiently handled all of this, considering he was never really much into shopping or socialising; he was a patient and mature boy who allowed his mother to fuss over him. Finally, it looked like all was done and the young man was ready to move!

Asha had never been great at saying goodbye – she studiously avoided all such situations where raw emotions were at risk to be laid bare for all to see. She had always been a restrained and undemonstrative person – no hugging and kissing and crying for her. She preferred to rejoice in a quiet celebration of love and affection within the inner recesses of her soul. Dhruv had been a hosteller for some time now, and he would come home during semester breaks and at times, steal a short escapade in between, over a long weekend. Besides, there had been the assurance that he was just two states away, along with the reasonable, easy commute between home and hostel. But this time it was different. Dhruv was flying across continents and oceans to a completely foreign land – both literally and metaphorically. Time zones wouldn’t match, neither would the cuisine or the culture.

As she left the terminal, Asha looked heavenward and silently brushed away from her cheeks, the tell-tale signs of maternal longing that had dared to brim over their fiercely guarded confines. She wearily walked towards the car park, and suddenly noticed the autumn sky rapidly changing from a bright pink to a dull orange as the sun prepared to retire for the day. The few yellow leaves on the tall, sturdy trees nearby disengaged and joined the carpet of dry leaves on the ground…nature had so well mastered the art of letting go, Asha mused. She reminisced the first baby steps that Dhruv had taken twenty-two years ago to his playschool and compared them with the bold, firm strides of the confident millennial today. Her heart swelled with pride once more – her child had evolved into a fine human being. But why was it punctuated by a sharp stab of pain, as if her very soul was being torn apart?

As the car engine revved up and they slowly started pulling out, Asha felt a hollowness in the pit of her stomach. In a flash of bittersweet epiphany, she realised that sometimes it is imperative to let go, to embrace distance, to pine for a loved one, only so that fresh ties are forged, old ones lovingly nurtured and the quest for a better stronger self, renewed. For her, it was a new awakening, the beginning of a fresh phase, and in a moment of carpe diem, she resolutely decided to be ready and willing to accept it.

Urmi Chakravorty is a Bangalore-based former high school English teacher who believes in imparting lessons in both vocabulary and values to her students in equal measure. Urmi has now forayed into the domain of freelance content and creative writing and has contributed articles to The Hindu. When she is not writing, she is busy playing godmother to her neighbourhood four-legged furry friends.