A Tribute to Mrs. Navale

“Keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about.” ― Marilyn Monroe

Pradhikaran is a well-planned locale in Pune. Nestled near the post office in one of the lanes in Pradhikaran lived old Mrs Navale. My first encounter with her was when I went in quest of  a music teacher to continue learning Hindustani classical Music. She was a retired professor and a teacher who taught Violin to students at their place as a passion. Wednesdays were reserved for vocal music by a sir named Mr. Maltani who came to her place and taught vocal music, harmonium, a percussion instrument called tabla. Harmonium is a type of reed organ that generates sound with foot-pumped bellows. He started at three in the afternoon and taught till seven in the evening. He taught young children, ladies and men. I and a few more ladies and  men were taught at 5.30 in the evening. Sir taught us classical in the true spirit with a harmonium, an electric tuning box (surpethi) and tabla. Our voices were trained to match the Taal (rhythm) and Laya (melody and tune). Since it was just a week we enjoyed it thoroughly. 

Mrs. Navale would also learn vocal singing, but normally her singing would finish before our time.  Later she would rush in to prepare a cup for tea for the teacher. Many a times she would be so engrossed in the class that she would forget about tea in the kitchen. Her realization would drag her back to clean up the burnt milk, but she would rush back to the drawing room quickly to resume the class. Mrs Navale was a short lady, slightly on the plumper side with a round face, sparse  grey hair on her head which was pulled back into a bun. She wore starched cotton saris and looked very dignified. She was a doctorate and a retired Professor. She used to organize the music classes in the drawing room with the musical  instruments which gave a melodious feel. In India, a student sits down with folded feet while singing. The posture gives an  easy throw of voice and the lower notes can also be sung with great ease. This posture is considered a mark of respect towards the teacher. Mr. Maltani is a young man with a smiling face and a sincerity which helps any student do his best. Mrs Navale would normally sit on the Diwan with her feet dangling because she could not sit down on the floor.

She would organise teacher’s day celebrations for our teacher with great dedication. We would sing our best to please our teacher. On such days, I could hear her vocal singing. She was strong in ‘sur’ and ‘laya’ but due to old age her voice many times quivered and cracked.

During the months of  July and August the Mondays are considered auspicious being the month of sravan according to the Hindu calendar. She would invite us to give a recital in the temple along with Maltani Sir. We would have steady rehearsals with her cheerful  support. During the performance, she would  wear her best silks. For a couple of years, I attended the music class regularly but never saw anyone else in her home. I never tried to know about her family. One of those days, I saw her seated on a chair in a gown with her arm fractured. She seemed cheerful and asked us to continue with our class. The young boys and girls and a maid taking care of her had organised the class as usual. The maid kept moving in and out according to her need. A few weeks later Mrs. Navale bounced back into her routine. Life resumed, we participated in our vocal singing wholeheartedly once again. Mrs. Navale would always want me sing Meera Bhajan based on ‘Raag Malkose’ which had won me a few laurels. The Raag had an alaap which charmed her. I soon got bored of it, but she was never tired of listening. That fateful Wednesday I saw her sitting outside in her veranda with a few more people.  She was in a pale cotton saree with no bindi (vermilion mark on the forehead), there was pain written on her face yet she tried to smile faintly. There were four more men and women. They sat away from each other looking at nothingness. She ushered me to go in where Mr. Maltani sat with the harmonium. I looked at him questioningly, he told me in a low noise  that Mrs. Navale had lost her husband who was a cancer patient three days back. I wondered if her husband was bedridden, Mr. Maltani said that he had left her for another woman and both the women bore no kids. I felt pained but sang the Meera Bhajan for Mrs. Navale as if my heart would break in grief. Mrs. Navale thanked me for singing the Bhajan. In the coming months, she was there to guide me to some of the faculty members to seek advice for my higher studies. As luck would have been I got admitted into M.Phil course at IASE Pune. I was managing the course work with my full-time job. Now I found that my interest had begun diminishing with too many things to do. She would always coax me, but I needed to give my time for my son  who had reached his tenth standard. When our interest wanes we find many excuses, perhaps it was that which stopped me from continuing the vocal classes. The last time I sang the Meera Bhajan, I was encountered by a hurtful expression on Mrs. Navale’s face. I promised her that I would be back in six months. I never had an opportunity to resume my vocal classes as I came to know that Mrs. Navale had a peaceful death on a winter night.

I cross the house many times, I stand looking at the carefully tended sugarcane plants and the huge peepul tree at the gate. I often find myself smiling back at Mrs. Navale’s beaming countenance only to be confronted by the forlorn and neglected space.

 I feel that God gives a supreme gift to those who are lonesome to befriend people. Mrs. Navale taught me the skill of discovering the inner realm in me with a purpose in life. Her strength to live life in a fruitful way with a determination to move on in life smilingly has taught me a novel way of appreciating and valuing life.

 “Why do I take this lonely road, nobody here to walk with me? So I start fresh all over again why won't you just comfort me?” ― Sara Quin