Flight of the Shikra

The children carefully studied our engagement and wedding photographs and using a similar theme, they worked out what they wanted. So the engagement would be in a 'Lehenga and Choli' for the girls and an Indo Western combination for the boys, the mehendi, predominantly for the ladies would be in 'Churidar Kameez,' the wedding would be in a traditional South Indian saree for the bride and a sherwani for the groom. For the grand finale, the reception, the brides chose a gown and the grooms would complement them in a western suit.

The children decided that the parents would be dressed in an attire similar to the bride and the groom for each of the functions. The responsibility for the bridal attire and the attire for the parents were handed over to Disha, who by now had become a very famous designer in the country. Vivek and I let Suman and Neela manage everything in coordination with the wedding planner, from the choice of the jewellery to the menu, to the printing of the invitation cards, to the actual management of the event. Some of the children's friends were also roped in for the event.

Neela wanted to have another 'Kaasu Maalai' made for Neelima, as she wanted to follow the tradition of passing on hers to her daughter-in-law, Alka. Suman and Vivek wanted to get into this, so they had one made for Neelima. Together we also bought for our daughters-in-law, their wedding sarees.

The enthusiasm and energy levels were at an all time high, Zoya and her family would also be coming over from Dubai for the three day bash. We had booked a number of rooms in the hotel where the events were being held and we had a couple of rooms for Zoya, her husband and Raghav, who was now a young upcoming corporate executive in a large multinational.

Finally the day dawned, everything happened in a whirl. The children looked so beautiful in their wedding finery, the food was amazing on every single day. There were many choreographed moves on the dance floor. The youngsters had prepared themselves well and the celebrations were in full swing. We, the parents were caught up in the enthusiasm and joined in whenever we were asked. We found time to meet up with every guest and thank them for their presence.

Finally, the event came to an end. As with the tradition Neela and I had set, Nihir would bring Alka home and Aakash would take Neelima to their home. We the parents took our respective new found daughters-in-law in our care.

The bridal beds were of course prepared by Sulochana and Champa. They had categorically told us, that just as they had prepared ours, so too would they do for the children, children whom they too had helped bring up.

We wished the children a good night and moved to our room. A surprise awaited us. Our two ladies had really gone overboard, they had decorated our room too as a bridal chamber.

I turned to Neela, she was as astonished as I was and then she winked and asked, "Why should the kids have all the fun?"

It was a little past midnight now, and after we got out of all the finery we were attired in, we reached out for each other. I made very tender love to Neela, and she had these bouts of little shivers as I touched and caressed her. And after the storm had settled somewhat, I ran my fingers through her hair. "You are so beautiful my love, so svelte, so sleek. Your breasts are as firm as when I first touched them. It is now thirty plus years since we met and you are as breathtaking as ever."

"Someone is very amorous today."

"Someone is also very much in love," I replied.

"Serenade me Narasimha," she said.

I started to sing the first Hindi song that came to my mind,

'Chaand Aahen bharega, phool dil thaam lenge

Husn ki baat chali to, sad tera naam lenge...'

'The moon will heave a sigh, the flowers will clutch their hearts

When there is talk of the most beautiful, your name will be on all lips...'

"Noooo, Narasimha, not that one, serenade me in Tamil, and translate it to me."

"The passion in the lines will be lost in translation, my love"

"Your eyes will reflect that passion, just serenade me please, with something new, something you have never sung to me before..."

I sang that melody... a slow lilting one...'Unnai kaanatha kannum, kannalla, unnai einaatha nenjum nenjalla......'

"It is haunting, tell me what it means...."

"The eyes that have never beheld you are not eyes

A heart that has never yearned for you is not a heart

The words that you have never spoken cannot exist

And without you, neither can I

Here you and I are two halves of the same whole

The anguish of a separation will torment us both

Seasons will change, scenarios will differ

Yet at the altar of love you and I are not disparate but the same

Without a deity there can be no temple

Without a temple there can be no lamps

You are my temple, I am your lamp,

and before the deity of love we are together as one..."

"This is out of this universe, I can see that in your eyes, Narasimha.... I love you so much......" And she held me tight...

"I can't believe this," she continued, "here I am, bordering on 69 and I still feel like a teenager on steroids."

"69? Did I hear 69?"

"You horny rhino," she cried as she wriggled out from under me and rolled on to my torso, facing the wrong direction... But I was not complaining, my mouth got busy doing something else...

We woke up to the chime of the cuckoo clock. She was in that familiar position, her chin on my chest, looking into my eyes. "It is 6, let's go cycling, I will get the kaapi, get ready."

"We have hardly slept, do we have to go?"

"If you are a good boy and you come with me, I will make you my 'out of this world' aloo parathas."

"But darling, I have been cumming with you all night!"

She bit my shoulder.

Well, she always has her way. We cycled to the lake. Over the last so many years, this would probably be our fifth set of bikes. Hers was a predominantly blue with streaks of green, mine predominantly green with streaks of blue. We wore matching helmets.

"Not bad lady, you jog pretty well at 69" I said,

She put her arm through mine in one fluid movement as we jogged, "69? Did I hear 69?" and we were laughing like lunatics.

We bathed, dressed and we started on the parathas, when the children came down for breakfast. "Morning, Mom, Dad," said Nihir as he hugged us in turn.

"Morning Mama, morning Papa," wished Alka as she embraced us. Neela and I looked at each other and smiled.

"Yes, that is what I call you from now, 'uncle' and 'auntie' suddenly seem too distant."

"Well, mama has made these wow aloo parathas," I said, "and papa will fix you some fresh orange juice. Did you guys sleep well?"

"Papaaaa," squealed Alka and all four of us were laughing our heads off.

We got together for lunch, Suman, Vivek, Neelima, Aakash and us four, the best and sweetest family in the world.

A week later, the kids took off on their honeymoon, they had opted for a mostly seaside holiday in Sri Lanka.

Neela and I had planned to author two books together, one on the basics of birdwatching and another on the basics of star gazing. Neela had become extremely good at sighting birds, she could seek them out from nowhere and was spectacular in identifying birds by their silhouettes when they were in the sky, something I still found difficult. We decided she would be the lead author in the book on birdwatching and I would be the lead author for the book on stargazing.

I moved the computer and the antique table and chair in my study to hers, next to our bedroom. Then I took her to the furniture mart, and we bought a love seat for our 'love nest,' not the victorian love seat that has a barrier between the seats, just a cozy kind of couch which could be made to recline.

In a year's time, we had written both the books, it was quite an easy job, for we had years and years of observation data, the trick was to write the books in an easy free flowing form, lace them with appropriate photographs that we had and highlight common errors that amateur birdwatchers and astronomers tend to make.

We found a publisher, and when it came to having our photographs on the back cover, we wanted the first photograph of ours that we had taken over 30 years earlier, when Neela and I went out for the first time together for an old movie that even now retained its popularity. The publishers thought we looked too young, but with digital technology being what it is, they could make us look older than the photograph and younger that what we presently looked like.

The books did well, they were not meant to be placed on bestseller lists, but in the niche markets that they were written for, they started bring in a small steady stream of royalties.

The kids were getting their PhDs one by one, it was a pleasure to be there when they publicly defended their thesis and presented their two sets of parents as their greatest inspiration and friends. It was like they were conferring a PhD on us for getting a lot of things right.

Neela and I set our affairs in order. We had health insurance policies that would cover us for any illnesses in our old age so that there was no financial burden on the children. We had managed our wealth well and gave much of the charge to our children and their spouses. The children were doing cutting edge research, publishing papers, attending conferences all over the world and teaching in their respective fields and earning reasonably well for themselves.

We, the two sets of parents and best friends led active lives, We celebrated every birthday, every anniversary as a family, met up regularly for extended family lunches and dinners, and celebrated Valentine's Day without fail, kept in touch with our close friends and were there for them whenever they needed us.

Neela and I still cycled, our jogging slowly turned to brisk walks, we still watched birds and spent time with our telescopes and our stars.

We spent the latter part of every morning in our love nest, the place where everything had begun. We loved our loveseat, we loved each other, our love life was still strong and passionate as we aged gracefully and all was well with our world.

Neela and Narasimha

It has been five years since Neela and Narasimha moved on, and it is my responsibility to bring closure to our bereavement and to the fairy tale that was theirs.

I am Alka, daughter-in-law of Neela and Narasimha, and on behalf of my husband Nihir, his sister Neelima, her husband and my brother Aakaash, I must bring about the denouement of a fascinating story.

It was a cool autumn morning in October. Mama was 75 and just a month ago Papa had turned 67. The entire family was at home. Mama and Papa, early risers as always, usually went up to their den on top of the garage, their 'love nest' as they called it, where they would be till lunch time. Sulochana and Champa, who have been working for Mama and Papa for ages managing the house, would take them their mid morning beverage, usually a fruit juice in summer or a hot chocolate in the cooler months.

We had woken up late it was almost mid morning when we were having our breakfast when Champa and Sulochana left with the tray. Moments later we heard a scream. We rushed out. Sulochana was standing outside their door, holding her head in her hands. We rushed in, Champa was standing in a state of shock. At first we couldn't make out what was wrong. Mama and Papa were in their love seat. Mama's shawl was draped around both their shoulders, something Mama usually did. Papa had his right-hand protectively around Mama's shoulder, Mama's right hand was on his lap and her left hand was in Papa's left. The appeared to be peacefully asleep, with Mama's flaxen grey hair stirring idly in the breeze coming in from the balcony.

I touched them, they were cold, they were dead.

"I thought they were sleeping," Champa sobbed, I called out to Madam, she didn't respond, then I shook her arm, her right hand which was on Sir's shoulder dropped down....

I felt for their pulse, knowing pretty well this was going to be futile. We were all after all Life Science students, we knew it was over.

We anyway called for emergency services, the responder despatched an ambulance. There always used to be a 108 ambulance deployed at the end of our road. It reached us in minutes.

The paramedics examined them and shook their heads. Then one of them called the police. For them, two healthy persons found dead together did not rule out foul play, or for that matter, suicide. The police arrived with the doctor.

The doctor said they both had a massive heart attack during their nap. One of them died first, the one who died next, wouldn't have been aware about the other from they way they were sitting and the peaceful look on their faces.

The policemen wanted to take them to the hospital for an autopsy. Neelima called her colleague whose father was the top cop of the city and an acquaintance of our family. He sent across two forensic experts. In the meantime, I asked Aakaash to go and break the news gently to Mom and Dad and bring them over.

"Don't phone them," I said, "keep your cool, break it them softly, bring them here."

Mom and Dad, best friends Suman and Vivek of Neela and Narasimha, arrived teary eyed but composed. One by one, we started to break down, Mom and Dad hugged us all.

The forensic guys conducted their examination, they viewed the security camera footage. It showed Mama and Papa, setting out on their blue green bicycles for their morning ride to the lake. Fast forward.... about two hours later, it showed them returning, parking their bikes and entering the house, arm in arm laughing and talking animatedly. Fast forward.... they were seen climbing up to their den, Papa had his hand protectively around Mama's waist. Fast forward... Sulochana and Champa going up with the tray, Sulochana rushing out, her hands holding her head, screaming, all of us running up......

There were no suspicious activity recorded on the other two cameras on the other side of the house. The forensic guys talked to their boss, then to the doctor, the doctor filled out the formal report, 'Death in the normal course of life due to a heart attack, likely age related.'

Neelima remembered that Mama and Papa had wished to donate their eyes. She spoke to the doctor, who made the calls, a team soon landed up. Then it was time to call the funeral directors and inform all those who were close to the family as also friends and past colleagues.

Mama and Papa had prepared us well for this day. They had sat us down and handed each of us a folder. The folder contained all documents for the trusts they had set up. Papa had come into a lot of money paid to him as compensation when his parents died in an air accident. That had been invested and formed a large corpus with which Mama and Papa had decided to fund the education of a few underprivileged children from school right up to heir masters degree. Then there was a corpus set up to take care of Champa, Sulochana and Rekha in their twilight years.

"They have been with us and played a major role in your lives," Mama said, "this will take care of their health insurance and their stay in a geriatric home once they are no more able to work for you."

There were some endowments for their friends Sonu and Disha. The accrual from their book royalties and a part of the money Mama had made when she sold off her factory they left for Suman and Vivek.

"Eventually it will come back to you guys," they said.

The property and other assets were to be divided among the four of us equally. Papa was very particular that the wealth they had created should be an investment for tough times. Do not invest this in any business ventures. Invest your own money, the fact that you have a lifeline should any business you get into goes bad will let you work with much peace of mind. They wanted their telescopes, there were two of them now and the dome and other equipment, to be donated to the physics department of a college nearby.

Both of them had large health insurance. "We do not want you to spend your money in our medical treatment to the extent possible," they said.

They had also stashed away enough so that they can, if it came to that, have geriatric care. We protested. But Mama was firm.

"I know you guys love us a lot, but old age and its related ills are such, that sometimes you will be forced to take very tough decisions. After all you have lives of your own to lead as will your children when they come along. So we are making these tough decisions for you."

Then she added, "Unless there is an unavoidable medical compulsion, keep us together. Papa and I cannot stay away from each other. Whether we live with you guys or in a home, do not separate us." Mama had tears in her eyes and Papa held her close.

"Nothing and no one will separate us Neela, not even death," and he kissed her. For a moment she clung to him, and then she regained her composure, grinned at him and said,

"You are a cocky guy aren't you? Always smug and confident about everything, no wonder I love you so much."

And I was thinking, "How do I tell you now, Mama? How do I tell you he was right? He was so fucking right!"

Mama and Papa had to be laid out in their casket. The funeral directors gave me the jewellery they were wearing, Mama's diamond tops, her bangles, their wrist watches and both their wedding rings, the two rings with the intertwined letters.

"Do you want them laid out in any particular dress?" they asked.

Neelima spoke, "They loved to be in a pair of jeans and tees. This is what they are wearing now and this is how they will go."

The crowds had gathered, their former colleagues, some old friends, other friends they had made when we were in school, business associates and former customers. There were flowers and wreaths, a few spoke, there were some eulogies, but there was this tremendous emptiness all around us.

We stood silently accepting their condolences. Sonu, Ajay, Disha and Gurjeet stood with us as part of the family.

There were to be no religious ceremonies, for we had no religion except that of humanism and love. It was time for the caskets to be taken to the crematorium. When we reached there, Neelima and Nihir were missing. I called them but they would not pick up, I was getting restless, then they arrived about twenty minutes later.

"We just stopped on the way for a large blue pottery jar, we are not going to carry them back in any earthenware pot," they said.

There were two furnaces at the crematorium, but Mom and Dad intervened. "They go in one by one into the same furnace," she said, "they will not be separated even here."

Mama was wheeled in first, her hair caught fire and mercifully the furnace doors came down and hid everything from view. Forty-five minutes later, Papa followed.

They brought the ashes in two metal trays, Nihir and Aakash gathered them into the pot. People had started filing out and there were just a few of them when we made it back to our home.

I wanted to bury the pot in the corner of our garden and make a small memorial. My idea was to make a bird bath, a short cylindrical column in granite topped by a large bowl, the entwined letters 'N' etched in the column, with a float mechanism that will always keep the water bowl full. We briefed the funeral directors accordingly.

Mom wished that we bury the ashes directly and grow a flowering plant in the pot. We interred the ashes in the corner of our garden. It was then that Sonu broke down completely.

"I kept my promise to boss-man," she cried hysterically as mom and Neelima hugged her. "Years ago, I cried once in his office when there was a goof up in the workplace. He waited a long time, till I had cried my heart out and the he told me, 'I never want to see you cry again, you are a fighter, so fight, but don't ever cry.' I did not cry at work ever, I did not cry when he left the company, I did not cry when Neela and he lay in the casket, I did not cry when they put Neela first and then him into the crematorium, I did not cry when we interred them here, but I have to cry now," she sobbed.