Mrs Rajah with granddaughterI unlatch the wooden gate which opens up to a well-kept garden that’s bursting with beautiful pertunias and bougainvilleas. I walk past the swing that I am so familiar with, and the water fountain in the front patio, make my way round the side of the bungalow, until I come to the door that leads to the kitchen.
There she is, sitting with her back facing me, giving her last student of the day English lessons. I stick my head in gently so that I don’t alarm her, “Hello Mrs Rajah!”
She turns around, visibly touched to see me, and exclaims in her high-pitched voice and typical dramatic fashion, “Ting! What a surprise!” We hug and she sends the boy on his way, “Good luck on your exams!” She’s an expressive lady who’s so passionate and affectionate all at once. “You should have told me you’re coming”, she admonishes, “I’d have made you a pot of curry!” Her curry is the yummiest! She used to make me cart home a pot of curry when I picked SK up from tuition.
We met 5 years ago when I was looking for a tutor to coach my kids. She’s the mother of Dave who is the best friend of my best friend’s husband. Get it? I have not seen her since last October. She doesn’t teach them anymore now that they’re in secondary school.
Mrs Rajah is an admirable woman. At 40, she suddenly lost her beloved husband to a heart attack just when life was looking up for them. They had just moved into a lovely house with their three young children. As she’s from a conservative Indian family, she faced the prospect of raising her kids with nary a thought of marrying again. She continued teaching in a primary school while caring for the children and her aging parents-in-law. After she retired, she continued giving English lessons from her house, the same one that she takes great pride in. She's gifted at making her home cosy and the garden beautiful. More importantly, she’s a great teacher, you see kids walking in and out of her gate everyday.
Life must have been hard but looking at her jolly disposition today, one can never tell. I remember she told me about an incident long ago which would give you an insight into how stressful life was for her then. One morning, after preparing meals for her kids, she rushed out of her gate to run after a bus that was moving off. She got up the bus, sat down and realised that she was still wearing house slippers. The worst thing was, both sides were different. Luckily her long sari hid the glaring mistake while she was in school.
Of course her kids are all adults now. She has brought them up really well. They have successful careers in the USA, her daughter’s a university lecturer and the two sons are lawyers. She shows me photos of her five beautiful grandkids and tells me her son just visited her a week ago. They love her very much and she visits them every year-end.
She suddenly turns sober, “You know, they have been asking me to pack up and go live with them. I know they really care about me but I like living here. I still want to go on teaching for a few more years. I have lovely friends and Niluka (her loyal domestic helper from Sri Lanka) here. I can hop on a bus and go places on a whim. Besides, at my age, more and more health problems are cropping up, like my eyes.... But my Gold Card (gratuity benefit for teachers) takes care of everything. I get free medical treatment for life. I don’t want to become totally reliant on my kids you know…”
As she trials off, I can really understand how she feels. I have seen how much her kids cherish her. But I have also seen parents who totally give up their homes and move in with their kids only to lose their freedom and independence. Kids mean well for their parents but sometimes they forget that nobody likes to feel helpless and reliant, no matter how old or young they are.
I walk out the gate, wave goodbye and promise to visit again soon. I'll be back, Mrs Rajah.
There she is, sitting with her back facing me, giving her last student of the day English lessons. I stick my head in gently so that I don’t alarm her, “Hello Mrs Rajah!”
She turns around, visibly touched to see me, and exclaims in her high-pitched voice and typical dramatic fashion, “Ting! What a surprise!” We hug and she sends the boy on his way, “Good luck on your exams!” She’s an expressive lady who’s so passionate and affectionate all at once. “You should have told me you’re coming”, she admonishes, “I’d have made you a pot of curry!” Her curry is the yummiest! She used to make me cart home a pot of curry when I picked SK up from tuition.
We met 5 years ago when I was looking for a tutor to coach my kids. She’s the mother of Dave who is the best friend of my best friend’s husband. Get it? I have not seen her since last October. She doesn’t teach them anymore now that they’re in secondary school.
Mrs Rajah is an admirable woman. At 40, she suddenly lost her beloved husband to a heart attack just when life was looking up for them. They had just moved into a lovely house with their three young children. As she’s from a conservative Indian family, she faced the prospect of raising her kids with nary a thought of marrying again. She continued teaching in a primary school while caring for the children and her aging parents-in-law. After she retired, she continued giving English lessons from her house, the same one that she takes great pride in. She's gifted at making her home cosy and the garden beautiful. More importantly, she’s a great teacher, you see kids walking in and out of her gate everyday.
Life must have been hard but looking at her jolly disposition today, one can never tell. I remember she told me about an incident long ago which would give you an insight into how stressful life was for her then. One morning, after preparing meals for her kids, she rushed out of her gate to run after a bus that was moving off. She got up the bus, sat down and realised that she was still wearing house slippers. The worst thing was, both sides were different. Luckily her long sari hid the glaring mistake while she was in school.
Of course her kids are all adults now. She has brought them up really well. They have successful careers in the USA, her daughter’s a university lecturer and the two sons are lawyers. She shows me photos of her five beautiful grandkids and tells me her son just visited her a week ago. They love her very much and she visits them every year-end.
She suddenly turns sober, “You know, they have been asking me to pack up and go live with them. I know they really care about me but I like living here. I still want to go on teaching for a few more years. I have lovely friends and Niluka (her loyal domestic helper from Sri Lanka) here. I can hop on a bus and go places on a whim. Besides, at my age, more and more health problems are cropping up, like my eyes.... But my Gold Card (gratuity benefit for teachers) takes care of everything. I get free medical treatment for life. I don’t want to become totally reliant on my kids you know…”
As she trials off, I can really understand how she feels. I have seen how much her kids cherish her. But I have also seen parents who totally give up their homes and move in with their kids only to lose their freedom and independence. Kids mean well for their parents but sometimes they forget that nobody likes to feel helpless and reliant, no matter how old or young they are.
I walk out the gate, wave goodbye and promise to visit again soon. I'll be back, Mrs Rajah.
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