It was a big day for 90 year old Dr.Lakshman Sharma. It was a day he had dreamt about almost every day for the last so many years. Neither his wife, now long gone, nor any of his 4 children or 11 grandchildren ever understood why the well educated PhD from Meerut could want to do something so seemingly ridiculous. None of them could understand that amidst all the tensions of being a 20 year old in the India that wanted but could not be, young boys dreaming together about a free country amidst nature had been one of the best things to have happened to him.
Gaurav, one of his grandsons who was working for a big MNC in Bangalore had invited him to stay for few days with him and his wife, Rashmi. The frail Dr.Lakshman had grabbed this one chance he got with both his hands and took the next flight out of Delhi. Gaurav and Rashmi were thrilled to receive him at the airport and he drove with them in their American Ford back to the well built multi-storeyed apartment that they had bought in the city. Gaurav knew of his grandfather’s longing to visit Brindavan Gardens, and today they were going to drive to the beautiful gardens.
Lakshman had been to these gardens once before. It was November of 1942 and Lakshman and his best friend Ramesh had been invited over to Mysore by Raghu who had met Ramesh through some family friends. The two 20 year olds had gladly taken 4 days via trains to reach Mysore and escape the unrelenting winters of the North and the scalding heat of the Quit India Movement which had the entire North simmering. One beautiful evening, Raghu took them both to the newly laid out Brindavan Gardens where they met up with some of Raghu’s friends and sat down to talk.
“Wow, you must be enjoying watching all those Britishers hopping around all scared!” said Manju, a 22 year old.
“What is the difference between the North and the South anyways?” This query from the 17 year old Senthil who was hoping that we will take him to Meerut with us. He had been a small kid during Meerut Conspiracy and felt the city was a Mecca.
“When do you think will we become Independent Lakshman?” Raghu intervened.
Dr.Lakshman could not help smiling as he fixed his freshly washed Nehru topi getting ready for the ride to the gardens. The entire evening of 69 years back was as fresh in his memory as if it was yesterday.
“If things go right, we should throw these Europeans out within 1 year.” Lakshman had replied bringing a smile on the 5 young faces who had only heard about the heaven called Freedom but had no idea what it meant.
“And what then?” Senthil again.
“We will be free! Free to go anywhere, free to talk about anything, free to do anything! That will be so Good!” Ramesh was almost flying in ecstasy as he replied. Another small lull as they all thought over the meaning again.
It was time to go and Dr.Lakshman’s heart was pounding as would a 20 year olds. “Gaurav has told me all about your dream to visit the place dadaji.” Rashmi was a good bahu. “He said how you used to make them sit and listen to all your discussions there.” “Let’s go dadaji,” Gaurav was picking up the car keys and heading for the lift. Dr.Lakshman reached the lift before his grandson making Rashmi smile. The lift got stuck on the way down.
“These Indian companies don’t know how to make things. An American lift will never stick like this. Now we need to wait for 15 minutes while someone comes to help us.” Gaurav’s statement was sad for Dr.Sharma. He remembered how he had enjoyed throwing everything foreign into the fire when he was a small kid and had hoped that one day, they will be proud to use Indian things.
“I will open my own car company.” Raghu was from a better family. “Once we are free, I will make good cars which Indians will be happy to drive. No Fords for us.”
“And who will give you the technology to make one?”
“Once our resources are our own, we can develop our own technology. We are no fools. It will take time but so what?”
“And the permission to make a company?”
“We will be free! What permission?”
The lift started and they reached the basement. Gaurav opened the door for his grandfather and they all started on the 3 hours drive to Brindavan Gardens. The plan was to stay in Mysore in the night and visit Mysore palace next morning along with a couple of other places and come back. Dr.Lakshman had no interest in all those.
Senthil interjected “I will become a policeman. And I will not harass anyone like they do now.”
“They don’t do it on purpose Senthil. Its just the Britishers that make them use force”
“So I will not use any.”
“Senthil, get some real work. Once we are free, why will we need the police in the first place?” laughed Manju.
“Dadaji, you should stay in Bangalore. Its great with such good weather. Delhi has nothing now.” Gaurav got Dr.Lakshman back to the present.
“Why don’t you two shift to Delhi? You will have the full family there.”
“Its so unsafe dadaji. Specially for women. Just yesterday, a close friend of mine was crying on the phone while speaking with me because she had been really badly mistreated by some co-passengers in the Metro. And that too in a place where the Chief Minister is a lady.”
Dr.Sharma nodded in understanding but did not say anything. He thought, police are needed for us Indians now.
Some piping hot idlis in Kamat followed by a strong filter coffee and 3 hours of heavy blaring horns and abusive drivers later, the threesome were at the gates of Dr.Sharma’s dream destination. The place had changed completely. Long queue in front of the ticket stand awaited them. Rs.50 for a camera! Why can’t we capture our memories for free in our own country thought Dr.Sharma.
The grass was growing upto the knees in some places with more weeds than grass. Water smelt. The layout though was just the same. Dr.Sharma went as fast as he could up the stairs to the place where they had dreamt. He was a happy kid. He could even see a portrait of Mahatma Gandhi peeking at him though a small waterfall now. Beautiful.
“But why are they not able to maintain this place?”
“There must be more than 30,000 people coming here every week. That will mean an average of Rs.4.5 lakhs plus the camera price of another 3 lakhs totalling to Rs.7.5 lakhs per week.” Rashmi was a financial analyst. “And this is excluding the royalties from the stalls inside and the parking ticket charges. But they will have to feed their own pockets first and greed has no boundaries. So nothing will be left for actual maintenance of the place.” This was slowly turning into a very depressing day indeed.
Sitting in the well trimmed garden, all 5 of them were dreaming loud about the free India.
“There will be no shortage of food.”
“Our resources will be our own.”
“Taxes that we give will be spent for our good.”
They are all still just dreams, thought Dr.Sharma sitting in the lawns which had been the setting for some lovely movies in the last few decades. Why did we go to all that trouble then? Progress and freedom seem to have reduced us to selfish, immoral people who have no respect for others.
“Lets go back home Gaurav. I am feeling tired.”
“But the musical fountain show will start in 15 minutes dadaji.”
“No, just take me back to Bangalore.” He started walking towards the gate, quite yet screaming inside.
Dr.Sharma had stopped reading the newspapers in disgust a long time back. Stories of violence and corruption were the only thing that these papers printed. He had only thought that some hope was still present somewhere but that seemed to have evaporated today.
Reaching back, he slowly changed and went back to sleep. Never ever to dream again…
