I had everything packed, ready for a week-long trip. We were leaving for our nephew’s marriage to Guruvayur. It was to be a pleasure-cum-religious exercise and as usual we had refilled our ‘coffers’ with 500 and 1000 rupee notes. Then demonetisation struck. In a matter of minutes, it took away the security these currencies gave us and made us temporarily worthless. There was a mad scramble for all the small ‘monies’ we could muster. We bundled them and started on a real spiritual journey. “Anyway we don’t have to worry about food till the marriage is over”, my husband joked, trying to look at the brighter side. All of us tried to cut the edges. Autos were shared; flowers were kept to the minimum.
All extravagance was avoided. Our son, rather his ‘card’, was our saviour in Guruvayur. My husband made sure that he was within our sight. No fancy food. Every note mattered. Our leisure time was spent chanting Narayaneeyam even inside the hotel room. The online stores in my mobile beckoned; ‘Not really needed,’ I turned them down. It was poverty amidst plenty. It took me back to the early years of our marriage. The income was low, the bills were too long, and the life, a long maze of dreams but a struggle, from the first to the last day of the month. We would rack our poor brains, till they became tired, as to how we could stretch the few tens and hundreds we had, to cover all the essential expenses. At times tempers used to fly, resentment and disappointment often giving vent to thick words. At the end of each trying day, standing shoulder to shoulder on the old balcony of our rented flat, we would smile at each other and make up for the fights. We had resilience and youth on our side and it was always: ‘Tomorrow is another day.’
When our poetic daughter was old enough to understand, she used to romanticise our hard times as plenty amidst poverty, reiterating that a strong bonding helps us to come out stronger. Those forgotten years caught up with me now as we stood together on the balcony of our 3-star hotel at Guruvayur. Resilience again is the keyword. The moon’s shade filled the night and he smiles suddenly. I also smile back. We will survive this ‘enforced’ poverty as well. Lines from my daughter’s poem echo within. We stay there, peace for a while; I relax - I have him, he has me and we have ours. The rest of them let tomorrow deal.
Email: maashu1@gmail.com