The Empty Nest
‘Don’t forget to have dinner, okay?’ Smita reminded her son.
‘Mom, I’m not a child.’ Ashish chided her.
It still amazed him that despite being 22 years of age, his mother’s constant worry was whether he was having his meals on time.
‘Don’t worry and take care of yourself. I’ll speak to you soon.’
As he was keeping his phone away, he heard the boarding call for his flight.
It had been a year since he had last been home. A year filled with late night hours at work, take-out food and a careless lifestyle, in general. He had taken on an important project at his job and had been quite busy with it. He was finally wrapping it up and was proud of the way it had turned out, but he was also exhausted. After a year of being on the go non-stop, he had to admit that he was burned out and needed a vacation. He had contemplated the idea of going for a holiday to a nice location (maybe Bali? He had heard that it was nice at this time of the year) but had finally decided on going back home. His mother was constantly asking him when he would visit next and after a year of skype calls and watsapp messages, he had to agree that he owed it to them both, to spend some quality time.
He couldn’t wait for all the home-cooked food; in fact, he had a list ready of all the things he wanted to eat during his month-long stay.
It was going to be a good holiday, he thought, as he walked towards the boarding gates.
Meanwhile, at their home in Mumbai, Smita was mentally ticking off a check-list. Ashish was coming home after almost a year and she wanted everything to be perfect for his stay. The fridge was stocked with all his favourite snacks and she had made sure his room was thoroughly cleaned. She had cooked his favourite meal – chicken biryani – for dinner and was now counting down the hours before he arrived. Only 1 more hour to go, she thought, as she glanced at the grandfather clock. She had wanted to go pick him up from the airport but he had told her firmly that there was no need for that. He could easily take a cab and find his way home. He was not a child, something he was constantly reminding her of.
And her response to that was that no matter how much he grew up, he was always going to be a child to her. She tried to give him his space. She didn’t want to be one of those overbearing parents but it was hard at times, for her to let go.
Looking back, she could literally divide her life into two halves – one with Ashish in it and one without. She had married quite young and it had been an arranged marriage, as was the norm at that time. She had met her husband, Mohan, only once, before they tied the knot and that had been more of a formality than anything else. In fact, she had been Ashish’s age -22 years – when she’d gotten married. She could only imagine his reaction if she even suggested marriage at this point, let alone an arranged one.
She had given birth to Ashish two years later and ever since she had held him in her arms for the first time, her life had changed. He had always been independent, even as a child. Where other kids would cling to their mothers at the entrance of the nurseries, unwilling to go in, Ashish would jump out of the car and run inside, even before she could catch up with him. Where other parents would helplessly try to get their children to settle down by distracting them with blocks and toys, Ashish would use her as a support to stand up before toddling away for his next adventure. She sometimes wished he would need her more, especially when she watched other children his age and the attachment they had towards their mothers.
She was constantly told by her friends how lucky she was that Ashish wasn’t one of those babies that was always demanding to be carried or coddled but she sometimes wished he was. Every time she lifted him for an extended period of time, he would wail his lungs out to be put down. In fact, the only time when he had quietly allowed her to hold him and fuss over him was when he’d been sick. He still wouldn’t accept any of her smothering kisses though and would determinedly turn the other way whenever she tried to be affectionate.
Growing up, he developed a knack for tinkering with things around the house and it became common for her to enter a room and find a dismantled lamp or a broken toy. Mohan would get annoyed if he knew so instead of telling him, she would quietly go and replace whatever it was that Ashish had broken.
His initial schooling years were the same – a blur of activity. He was an active child and as she had suspected, it became a task to get him to sit in one place to do any homework or study. He was always asking her for permission to go play with his friends and she was always putting down rules – ‘after you finish your math homework’ or ‘after you study for your English test.’ He would pout but would listen anyway…atleast, for the most part.
And then, when Ashish had been 8 years old, they’d had to move cities because Mohan had gotten a job transfer. They spent almost a month in discussion prior to it; about whether this would be a good move for the family. They had a lot of family and friends in their native city of Dehradun and so, in a way, it was their safety net. After weighing all possible pros and cons, they finally packed their bags and with hopes in their eyes and fear in their hearts, they moved to the bustling city of Mumbai, after spending almost a decade of their life in Dehradun. Mumbai was everything and yet nothing like they had expected. It was a land of opportunity but also a strange city nonetheless. Mohan had joined work immediately and in a way that helped him come to terms with the city much more easily. It was not the same for Smita and Ashish.
They had thought it would be easy for Ashish to make the switch between schools and friends since he was so young but that’s where they were wrong – he withdrew into a shell and on some days simply refused to go to school. He barely ate his meals and started staying at home more often. Smita, who had left her job behind in Dehradun and was planning on looking for something in Mumbai put all of that on hold when she realized that she was needed more at home.
Smita clearly remembered how she had stayed up night after night, whispering words of comfort to her son as he cried into his pillow and pleaded to go back to Dehradun. He missed his friends, he missed his school, and he did not like it in Mumbai. He wanted to go back home. Smita would gently try and explain how Mumbai was now their new home and that within no time he would come to see it that way, that he would make friends and like his school. This would usually result in another bout of pitiful sobs. Then of course, there were the times when she would try and get him to eat, sometimes through bribing him with gifts, other times through downright threats. It was hard, those initial years in Mumbai. Things got so bad at one point that they were seriously considering returning. The whole reason they had moved was for more opportunity not only for them, but for Ashish and if the move wasn’t agreeing with him, then maybe it wasn’t worth it. They decided to give it another month and if things didn’t improve, then they would move back.
Things, however, started looking up for them shortly after that. Ashish made a friend at school and suddenly, going to school wasn’t such a chore. He had a friend to play football with, to talk to and when you’re 8 years old and in a new, foreign city, that could mean the world to you. To the relief of his parents, he started opening up a little more at home, and in school. He started eating his meals more regularly and Smita started finding that the lunch boxes she would pack for him would no longer return untouched. He was slowly but surely regaining his self-confidence and within a few months, Mohan asked her if she wanted to look for work, now that Ashish seemed a little more stable. Even though she could see the change for herself, the fear of those initial few months and how hard it had been for her son, kept her from agreeing. What if this was a temporary phase and he once again, withdrew into his shell? She decided that she would give it more time. Maybe after a few years? After all, Mohan had a secure job and the income was sufficient, so she could afford to stay at home and focus on Ashish. Her husband didn’t push the issue either. She suspected he had the same fears as her and so, preferred that arrangement as well.
That was almost 14 years ago.
She never got back to work but instead took up the full-time role of a house wife and mother, with her whole life revolving around her family. She didn’t want nor need anything else. She was happy to wake up early in the morning and make sure her husband and son were fed before they started their day. She made sure Ashish was dropped and picked up from school, extra-curriculars activities and tuition classes. Once back home, she would feed him lunch and then sit with him for a few hours to help him through his homework and course material. She took up the responsibility of keeping the house clean, the clothes washed and ironed, and the meals hot and ready to be served. She was content with her life, never once questioning her choices or her sacrifices. In fact, she didn’t even realize when Ashish grew up and was no longer a kid.
It was only after Ashish accepted a job offer in another city and moved away from home, did she suddenly feel this void inside her. She suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with her time, with herself. For so long, she had played the role of a devoted mother that she wasn’t sure what else was she, if not that. Mohan told her that it was common, that almost all parents went through this feeling and that she could now focus on doing things for herself, now that she didn’t have to worry about Ashish. But, looking after her family had always been her purpose, not an obligation. She loved cooking and cleaning for them, listening to their stories and giving them advice. Even though she might have grumbled about not having time for herself, she wouldn’t trade a single moment of those years, because it made her feel needed, made her feel involved in their lives. She was proud of the way they had raised Ashish and the young man he had turned out to be – considerate and responsible – but there were moments when she wished she go back to those years when he was a child again. Their home was empty without him, too silent, too lonely.
She was interrupted from her train of thought by hearing the door opening.
Ashish was home!
He entered, looking tired but with a smile on his face. He had lost weight since she had last seen him. No doubt he wasn’t eating well even though she was constantly reminding him. Now that he was home, she would make sure he ate healthy food.
‘Hi ma,’ he said, keeping his bag aside and wrapping his arms around her.
Smita smiled as she hugged him back.
She could feel the emptiness inside her slowly but surely receding.
Her child was home.
***
