able to sustain the daily dose of bashing that was her lot. The next day, she left behind every single paisa she had earned, her bungalow, her car, even her clothes, and sought refuge with Mai Mangeshkar, the grand old materfamilias. (It's a sore point in my life that she found the courage to do so only when my younger brother Anand was to be born). Of course, there were instant theories in the industry about this 'desertion', and I'm sure that there were many who were disappointed when Anand grew up to be (fortunately, only in appearance) a replica of our father.
From now, I am on safe ground: I do not have to rely on hearsay. My memory miraculously returns with our surreptitious flight to the home of my grandmother, my three aunts and uncle. However, my memories of Aai are still not all that bright. Initially, there's just a smattering of her, for she has to work twice as hard, since she has to rebuild from scratch, and there is one more mouth to feed. Although she was always there to make our home, put us through school and spoil us with luxuries, I never had enough of her. How a single parent manages to merge the roles of provider and home-maker is still beyond my comprehension. Much later, I asked her, "Aai, you had the security of the roof of your own mother, your sisters -- what was the big rush to set up your own house? Instead, couldn't you have given us more time?" Without missing a beat, she replied, "Never again did I want to be at the mercy of anyone else. It would have been equally harmful for you three. You had to grow up in your own home, and with the freedom I alone could sanction". We did, we did.
After setting up independently, Aai rebelled a textbook kind of rebellion. Much more than today, the film industry -- like our soci ..... |
