There was a time when elderly people followed the practice of Vanaprastha. They would hand over the responsibility of running the household to their children and entrust them with its stewardship. They would then spend the rest of their lives living near a gurukula or an rishi ashram. Perhaps they chose this path because the demands and burdens of worldly life left little opportunity for remembrance of God, prayer, or spiritual practice. Or they would spend their remaining years undertaking pilgrimages and visiting sacred places.
Whenever I look at today’s old-age homes, I often feel that they have taken the place once occupied by Vanaprastha. Circumstances compelled me to visit an old-age home. At the same time, I found myself wondering whether old-age homes were really necessary.
I decided to make use of the opportunity that came my way.
In recent times, old-age homes have become an issue that touches almost every family. To understand whether the reasons lie in the emotions, values, and changing ways of different generations, I felt it was necessary to visit these homes. The experiences shared by many of the residents there, and the circumstances that brought them there, have been given a written form here in my own way.
My daughter-in-law had gone to distribute the Varamahalakshmi Pooja prasada, organised by our women’s association, to a few people.
The moment she came back, she said,
“Mayi, I went to your friend’s house.
Neither she nor her daughter-in-law came for the Varamahalakshmi Pooja. So I thought I’d give them the prasada and come back.”
“Good that you went. Even I noticed that they hadn’t come. For the past week, I’ve been calling them, but neither of them has answered. I haven’t had the time to go and see them either. I was wondering if they had some quarrel and were sitting at home… Why didn’t they come? Are they keeping well?” I asked.
“Hmmm… they’re healthy. But it seems your friend has gone and joined an old-age home. Her daughter-in-law says she cannot bear everyone questioning and blaming her. That’s why she switched off her phone. She says it’s difficult to face everyone’s looks and comments, so she doesn’t go anywhere these days. She just goes to office and comes back. Her son is the same,” she said.
“Mayi, shall we go to the old-age home tomorrow? Her daughter-in-law is worried about how she might be managing there. If possible, let’s go and see her. She wants someone to speak to her, reassure her, and ask her to come back home.”
“Alright. We’ll go tomorrow afternoon itself. We must return before the children come home in the evening. There won’t be time to prepare anything to take along. At least let’s carry some fruits.”
“Yes, that’s fine. We can buy them on the way.”
My daughter-in-law went back to her work, but my mind kept circling around my friend.
My friend was seventy-two years old then. Though she had the usual ailments that come with age, she was a strong woman.
Ever since her marriage, she had spent her whole life toiling for that household. As a result, even if a stick had to be moved from one place to another, everyone had to seek her permission. From the cooking to the groceries that were bought, from who should eat what to what should be worn—everything had to be according to her wishes. Even if anyone wanted to go somewhere, it could happen only if she agreed. Otherwise, they had to keep quiet.
As long as her husband was alive, everything happened exactly as she wanted. Her daughter-in-law too adjusted herself and went along.
It must have been eighteen or twenty years since her husband passed away.
The grandchildren had grown up as well.
Even now, if she expected everything to happen according to her wishes, would they tolerate it?
Perhaps her daughter-in-law had begun responding because she sometimes had to accommodate the wishes of her own children. Or perhaps she had simply grown tired of constantly yielding to her mother-in-law. Whatever the reason, she had started speaking up occasionally.
Then she herself would feel sorry and say,
“I should be more patient. She is old now. She’s also used to having her way in everything.”
The next afternoon, my daughter-in-law and I went to see her.
Not with the intention of persuading her to return home, but simply to see how she was doing.
She did not speak much even to us.
We too did not bring up anything about her family.
We walked around the old-age home, saw the facilities and arrangements, and came back.
“I have made many friends here. Do keep coming once in a while,” she said.
We agreed, took leave of her, and returned.
From then on, my visits to the old-age home became frequent.
Each person had a story. Or perhaps a sorrow.
And slowly, the Sandhyaraagas of their lives began to resonate through the strings of my veena.
Veena Shanbhogue
Translation and Preservation by Sumanth Shanbhogue for Shanbhogue Publications
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