Paramyya’s Paddi

“Appa, we’ve decided to set up the factory here, so we won’t be going to America to work for others. However, we can’t make this decision hastily. Before leaving America, we need to take care of various matters, such as packing our belongings and obtaining our children’s school certificates. Therefore, we believe it’s best for you to stay at the old age home for now. Once we’ve sorted everything out, we’ll bring you back home. What do you think?”

On Independence Day, after the flag was hoisted, chairs were neatly arranged in rows under a canopy in front of the Vayodhama old-age home courtyard. Warden Urmila addressed all the seniors through the microphone, inviting them to sit in a row. She then welcomed their comrades on stage to sing “Vande Mataram”.

Sri Lalitha, Sushilamma, Vasundhara, Seshamma, and Padminiamma stepped onto the stage and initiated the program with a song. Following that, some of them presented patriotic songs and delivered speeches.

For breakfast, they served uppitu, kesari bath and filter coffee. Since it was Independence Day, generous donors also provided sweet snacks.The administrators and nurses at the old-age home were well-versed in the residents’ various diseases, medications, and dietary needs. Accordingly, they carefully portioned out one Mysore pak and one laddu alongside the uppitu and saffron rice.

For those with diabetes, the server would place half a Mysore Pak and half a Laddu on their plate, advising, “Kindly manage the sugar a bit, once it gets control we will serve you on the other day.” Parammayya had been struggling with elevated sugar levels lately. After adhering to a strict diet for a month, his taste buds felt dulled.

As the dessert landed on his plate, he eagerly made his way to the table and sat down to eat. Upon noticing the woman seated beside him, he inquired, “Oh… are you… are you Padma?”

“No, I am Padmini,” she responded.

“Ah, Padmini. It took me a while to recall the name,” Parammayya admitted with a chuckle.

“Are you new here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Padmini replied.

“When you were singing the Vande Mataram song, it reminded me of my school days.”

Padmini abruptly ended the conversation and said  “Oh thank you!” Saying that, Padmini took her plate and glass from the table and left.

Paramayya wondered, “Did I say something wrong?” to himself as he continued to eat his breakfast.

The next evening, Padminiamma sat with her friends in the Vayodhama garden as Paramayya approached, leaning on his walking stick.

“Hello, Srilalithamma…”

“Where are you heading, Sir?”

“Nowhere far. Urmila insists I take a walk.”

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s good for your health.”

“Indeed. By the way, what’s the ladies’ gathering about?”

“Oh, the usual. I called home and chatted with my grandchildren, which cheered me up a bit. I once had good connections that helped arrange my son’s marriage, hoping for a happy family life. But my daughter-in-law, upon moving in, began influencing my son against me. Whenever I tried to be positive, she’d argue and threaten to leave for her parents’ house, saying she won’t return until I’m gone. Yet now she travels the world freely! While my son toils, she splurges on makeup and other luxuries. She even controls what my grandchildren eat, pressuring my granddaughter to stay slim, which leads to constant arguments. My son promised to visit with the children every week, but it’s been six months, and he hasn’t shown up. I miss my grandchildren terribly. My daughter-in-law, who always cared for her parents, now spends my son’s money without consulting me.

Sadly, this is a common tale among residents here, who often share their woes. Yet, Padminiamma remains silent, never airing her grievances like the others. She keeps her pain to herself, even in the midst of all the commotion.”

As the evening passed by, the residents chatted until dinner time. They all went to the dining area together. Meanwhile, Urmila checked with the other nurses to make sure everyone got their medicines for the night. When it was Paramayya’s turn, he took his medicines and then asked Urmila to bring him the photo of his children from the wall. He wanted to hold it before she left. Urmila got the photo, said goodnight to Paramayya, and left the room. Sitting alone, Paramayya looked at the picture of his children, remembering the days when they were young.

After returning home from America, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Parammayya enjoyed spending time with his children, sharing stories with his grandchildren, and taking leisurely strolls in the garden or by the ponds. However, when the daughters-in-law conversed with their husbands, they switched to English to prevent Parammayya from understanding. Meanwhile, the two brothers approached their father with a plan to establish a factory on a five-acre plot in the village, aiming to create job opportunities for local youth.

"Appa," they began, "we’ve decided to set up the factory here, so we won’t be going to America to work for others. However, we can’t make this decision hastily. Before leaving America, we need to take care of various matters, such as packing our belongings and obtaining our children’s school certificates. Therefore, we believe it’s best for you to stay at the old age home for now. Once we’ve sorted everything out, we’ll bring you back home. What do you think?"

Paramayya, without realizing the implications of his actions, signed all the house and property deeds as requested by his children. Later on, he found himself admitted to the old age home as part of their plan.

Paramayya started to drift off to sleep while gazing at his family photo.

The next morning, Parammaiah’s two children, Satish and Naveen, unexpectedly arrived at the old age home. Urmila entered Parammaiah’s room and informed him, “Sir, your children have come to see you.” “Sir, please come with me,” she instructed, leading him out.

Parammaiah felt a mix of joy and surprise upon seeing his children after a year without any prior notice. As they explained, “Dad, we came to take care of you since our children are on vacation. Let’s go home,” the alarm at Vayodhama rang, waking him up abruptly, realizing it was just a dream.

It had been a year now, not just two months. Despite the children being in town, none had bothered to check in on their father. No responses to letters or phone calls.

At first, Parammaiah would sit by Urmila’s room, asking every ten minutes if there was any news from his children. Urmila’s response was always the same, “Sir, I haven’t heard from your sons. If anyone contacts me, I’ll let you know. Please take care of your health and remember to take your food and medication on time.”

Parammaiah’s health suffered greatly due to his children’s neglect. His eyesight deteriorated, and he felt increasingly isolated. However, friends from the old age home would frequently visit and spend time with him, and Padmini provided him with special care and attention.

Sometimes, Urmila would bring her children to the old age home to interact with the residents, bringing them some relief and joy. To keep the elders active and uplifted, Urmila and her team organized various competitions and activities to help them forget their worries and the absence of their children’s love.

One day, some workers from Parammaiah’s field visited him at Vayodhama.

“Ayya, we never imagined seeing you in such a state. Your children have deceived you and us by transferring all your assets to their names. They falsely promised jobs to us and our children in the village. We were accustomed to agriculture, but they’re cutting down trees and burning the land to start their company. They’ve destroyed all the fruit trees that we planted together, leaving the once-fertile fields barren,” they lamented.

Parammaiah was deeply pained by this revelation. Turning to Padmini beside him, he said, “Look, Padmini, I’ve given all my property to my children, but they don’t understand how to care for it. Our time on this earth is limited; sooner or later, we’ll leave this world. When we die, we take nothing with us. But they show no concern for preserving this environment, this greenery.

The plants I nurtured with my father’s hands grew into trees that bore fruit for my children. What do my children, who are now lying in town, know? How much love and care did I invest in those trees? My wife and I spent countless days in silent chat with the trees and plants. When she passed away, she didn’t know how heartless and cruel our children had become. Before seeing their true colors, she rests in peace at Lord Shiva’s feet, and that brings me some solace.” He exclaimed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Padmini replied, “What you said is true. If I had listened to my parents and followed their advice, my life might have been different. Coming from a wealthy family, I fell in love and married according to my own wishes, ignoring my parents’ wishes about marriage. I distanced myself from them because they went against my choice. After a year of marriage, I discovered that my husband already had three children. He had deceived me and married me under the guise of love, all for the sake of my property. At that time, I was six months pregnant.

To ensure that my child wouldn’t suffer for my mistake, I returned to my hometown and begged my parents for forgiveness, asking them to take me back. How could parents abandon their only daughter in such a situation? My mother welcomed me back home, but my father remained angry with me until his death. They urged me to remarry, but I refused because I wanted a secure future for my daughter. In his final days, my father called a lawyer and transferred all the property into my daughter’s name.”

After ensuring my daughter’s education, I married her into a respectable family. However, her husband seems more interested in our wealth and possessions than in my daughter’s well-being. Sadly, my daughter fails to see this. She defends her husband’s every action and word. After many years of their marriage, things were smooth. I took care of my grandchildren at home. But as they grew up and went to college, they felt they didn’t need me around anymore. They tore down our old house and built a new one. After my grandchildren went overseas for school, I found myself alone at home.

My son-in-law wanted to kick me out so he could move in with his parents, but I didn’t have anything to call my own, even though it was my house every day, he treated me badly. When I eat, he watches me closely. Whenever I buy new clothes, he becomes jealous, and he criticizes everything I do.

But when I’ve talked to my daughter about this a few times, she doesn’t seem to take it seriously. “Mom, you never had a happy marriage or family life. I don’t want to hear complaints from you that might disrupt my own family. Please don’t interfere in the relationship between my husband and me. Although the property is in my name, you are free to do as you wish with this house. But please refrain from getting involved in our plans,” she asserts firmly.

Feeling powerless, I asked my daughter to put me in an old age home. Others blame their daughter-in-law, but I can’t blame my daughter. I’ve cared for her for so long. One day, she’ll understand a mother’s love. That’s what I’m feeling,” Padmini told Paramayya.

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For two years, nothing changed. Eighty-six-year-old Paramayya found the air at Vayodhama suffocating. Every day, he pleaded with Urmila to send him away from the old age home, fearing he’d die there. Though Paramayya knew it was impossible, he felt like a trapped bird. No one visited him from outside, not even from town. However, he found solace in sharing his experiences with fellow residents, forming close friendships. Paramayya affectionately called Padminiamma “Paddi” and they often read novels together, discussing various topics.

In this way, they found refuge in their own world within the old age home, forgetting the actions of their children and engaging in activities like role-playing, storytelling, and singing songs with other residents.

One day, a woman arrived at Vayodhama with her husband and two daughters.

Upon seeing them, Urmila inquired, “Who are you here to visit?” The lady replied, “Are there any Paramayyas here? I’ve come to see him.”

Urmila promptly informed Paramayya of the visitors. “Sir, someone has come to see you,” she said.

As they reunited, Paramayya adjusted his glasses and exclaimed, “Goodness! Are you our Ramani? It’s been so many years since we last saw each other. And who are these two lovely children of yours? When you first came to our home, you were just like them. If Ammovru were here now, she would be delighted to see you here. Why have you come all this way, my daughter?”

“I came here just to see you, Appaya,” Ramani said, wiping away tears. “Why the tears, dear? What’s the matter?” he asked. (Appayya is a term that means father, similar to Appa.)

Padminiamma and their other friends arrived. “Paddi, I was telling everyone this is our Ramani,” he introduced her proudly.

“Appayya, why don’t you come and stay at our house? I’ll take good care of you. I’ve never seen you in such a state before. I’ve always wanted to come here and take you back home, and now seems like the perfect time. Your daughter Ramani is here. Come, Appaya, stay with us. You’re like a god to us. We have no problems with you.”

“Ramani, you’re kind, but I can’t be a burden to you. Even if you call me with all your heart, I do not want to trouble your family. I have nothing to offer you. If possible, just visit whenever you’re free. That’s enough for me,” Paramayya said. 

Padminiamma asked, “But you’ve always wanted to leave here. I know how much you desire to get out and see the world beyond these walls. So why are you refusing when Ramani is inviting you to come?”

“Paddi, how will you fare if I leave? Despite your many friends, I know the care and respect you have for me, the friendship you offer, and the concern you show. You may not be my kin, but you’ve nursed me through illness countless times. I feel the same friendship and care for you. What purpose do I serve at this age, abandoning you like my children did? If you agree, come with me, and we’ll start anew elsewhere. We’re tired of false hopes, waiting for our children to come for us someday. We shouldn’t be confined to this old age home until we die. We worry about our children’s well-being, yet we’re neglected here ourselves. We ended up here because we’re defenseless against our children’s mistreatment. It’s the same cycle perpetuated by their offspring.

Even though she’s not my daughter, she’s come here and calls me ‘Appa.’ We deserve to live freely like everyone else. Let’s enjoy a few carefree days,” he proposed.

Paramayya approached Ramani and gently expressed, “My dear, we don’t wish to impose on you, so we’ll only stay for a few days. Then we’ll return to Vayodhama. However, the atmosphere there suffocates me. I’d like to accompany you for a while to experience the outside world. If it’s alright with you, Padmini will join me.”

“Appayya, ultimately, this is your home. My family and I are grateful for your blessings. Feel free to stay with us as long as you wish. The new life you and Ammovru have given me means everything. Our doors are open to everyone.” With those words, he gathered all their clothes and medicines before leaving.

As the car neared Ramani’s house, memories flooded Paramayya’s mind. “This place stirs up memories from years ago,” he remarked as he stepped out.

“Appayya, do you recognize this place?” Ramani asked.

“I can’t recall exactly, but it feels familiar,” Paramayya replied as they entered the house. Inside, they were surprised to see a photo hanging on the wall.

It was a picture of a woman named “Padmavasanti,” with her birth and death dates written below. Sitting down, Parammaiah couldn’t hold back tears as memories washed over him.

Padminiamma exclaimed, “Is this…?”

“Yes, this is our beloved Ammovru, Padmavasanti,” Ramani confirmed. “When I was fourteen, we came here with Appayya and Ammovru for a vacation.”

“Ammovru adored hill places, so she secretly bought this house and two acres of land. After I got married, she asked me to stay here and care for the property. My husband and I toiled to nurture the land, and now, after ten years, the garden is thriving. Sadly, Ammovru never got chance to return, but I’ve brought Appayya here to show him this place so he can relish it.”

“It’s a blessing that God has given our Appayya another chance through the name ‘Padma,'” Ramani concluded, addressing Padminiamma.

“We’ve traveled for hours on these rough roads, and it’s tiring,” Ramani said to her husband in Kannada. “Please fetch some tender coconut water from the garden for Appayya and Amma. I’ll start preparing the meal,” she added before heading inside.

Meanwhile, the two elders sat outside, soaking in the peaceful surroundings. They watched the breeze rustle through the mountains, the coconut trees swaying gracefully, and the lush mango grove nearby. The sight of flourishing vegetables, flowers, and fruits filled them with contentment.

“Traveling long distances can be exhausting. Ree,” Ramani called out to her husband in Kannada. “Please go to the garden and fetch some tender coconut water for Appayya and Amma. I’ll start preparing the meal soon,” she added before heading inside the house.

Meanwhile, the two elders sat outside, enjoying the serene surroundings. They watched the breeze sweep through the mountains, the tall coconut trees swaying gracefully against the sky, and the lush mango grove nearby. The sight of vegetables, flowers, and fruits growing their hearts filled with gratitude, they savored each sip of the coconut water, cherishing the moment and feeling thankful for the simple joys of life. Each moment outside felt like a liberation, a precious escape from the confines of their previous life. With tears welling in his eyes, Paramayya poured out his heart to Ramani’s husband, overwhelmed by the depth of their care and affection, despite the absence of a blood bond.