That old lady

For the past few months, I had observed that, invariably, we would discuss the same thing each time. She would ask me how my family was and how I was performing at college. My answers would always be in affirmative. Then she would ask me if I wanted to hear the Ramayana, to which I never refused because the inordinate amount of joy that she extracted from narrating the same story every time made my task of listening to her even more pleasurable. This process would last for an hour after which she would ask me to sing some of her old favorite melodies. After that we would hug and say our good byes. It had become a routine for me to do this thrice a week. I felt satisfied and peaceful after each meeting with her. However, it was agonizing to see her degenerating so quickly and so mercilessly.

It had only been two years ago that I had visited an old age home feeling extremely distrustful of my capabilities of handling old people. I sat down to talk to old Mrs. Jyoti, as everyone called her. Surprisingly, I felt very comfortable being around her. I talked to her without feeling inhibited and that is how our association began. What made our relationship so precious was the fact that in spite of the enormous age gap, we were able to connect very well. I had spoken to the manager and he told me that she had Alzheimer's disease and that her condition was certain to take a turn for the worse. The thought of that fateful day never crossed my mind. I developed a fondness for her and looked forward to spending time with her.

I continued meeting her thrice a week and gradually, I started to realize that she was deteriorating. At first, she had been forgetful and slow to assimilate things. But later, she demonstrated signs of irritability and intermittency of emotions. This change in her left me flummoxed but it was only a matter of time before I adapted myself to the change in her. After a great deal of persuasion, she had angrily agreed to discard her old gown in lieu of a similar new one. Sometimes, she would create a hue and cry in order to have food cooked as per her liking and then throw it all away and criticize the cook for his incompetence. People around her had started to develop an aversion towards her but I knew that the worst was yet to come. The symptoms were beginning to make their appearance slowly yet forcefully. Sometimes, she would also throw away the tea I would make for her. She often acted petulant but I tried my best to remain patient.

Now, when I meet her, neither does she smile at me nor does she utter a word. She has become unresponsive. She sits in her chair like a mute incarnation of an impeccable beauty. I kiss her, as always, on her right cheek and sit next to her and hold her hand in mine. I tell her that my parents are doing well and that I am performing brilliantly in college. I sing her favorite melodies and at the end hug her and say goodbye.

This is not a story of my association with an old lady- it is a call to all of us who are capable of making a difference to others' lives in our own unique ways. I realize how a few hours spent with an aging lady can bring to her immense happiness. Just the mere thought of losing her one day makes me shudder. Being with her helped me to evolve holistically as a person. I tried to empathize with her and look at issues from her perspective. Sometimes, unknowingly, we learn a lot from the most unexpected people. Her silence speaks volumes and that rejuvenates our friendship each time. It provides me with a sense of encouragement to not lose faith in her. Now, all that I have with her are one-sided conversations. I know that she does not comprehend anything I say to her but she knows that I care. She conveys that to me by a grateful look in her eye which only I can understand. I know for sure, that my time spent with her has been fruitful.

By Smriti Sharma