Caretaker

Caretaker
In the small town that I grew up in, we were a family of four- mother, father, and my brother. Our parents used to work in schools as teachers. When we were little, we had a caretaker who used to look after us when our parents were away. My brother and I used to call her Atha, which means "paternal aunt".
Atha’s job started at 9 in the morning and ended at 5 in the evening. She was an elderly woman and had lost her husband. She took up the work of a caretaker for kids when she ran out of savings. She used to live in the quarters that were a little away from our house, but were within the campus. Her responsibilities included getting us back home after school, getting us to change our clothes, feeding us lunch, and generally looking after us. Either of our parents used to drop us in the school. Atha would finish all her chores before her duty as a caretaker for the day began.
I remember her talking to us patiently, telling us stories of kings and queens and faraway lands, and teaching us little fun games. The walk back from the school took a really long time, not because the school was far away, but because we walked really slowly, stopping to see the cycle rickshaws, bicycles, the buses, the dogs in the street, the people going about their lives, the flowers, and so on. I would ask her questions about each one of these over and over again everyday and she would patiently answer each one of these while gently guiding us to walk carefully. There was a park on our way back from school, and I would insist that we go to the park. She would say,” Ask your mom if she says it is okay, then I will take you to the park tomorrow”. I would invariably forget about the park by the time my mom got home in the evening and would have the same request for Atha the next day.
Once home, Atha would get me to change my clothes and feed me my lunch. She would then cook a simple meal of rice, dal, and a curry for herself. I used to sit and watch her peel the potatoes, boil, and temper them. She would have lunch at 1 in the afternoon. I used to leave her as my mom had instructed me to leave her to have her meal without bothering her with questions. I would wait till she finished lunch and had put away the dishes aside to be scrubbed later. I would then insist that she tell me stories, and she would tell me mythological stories. She would ask me how I had spent the day and what I had learnt at school. I would ask what she did while I was away. She would tell me that she had gone to attend school just like me, and I would end up laughing, and she would join me. I asked this question every day and got the same answer every day, and we would laugh over it every day.
She taught me little games played with bits of string, seeds of the tamarind fruit, and rhymes in our native language. She taught me to colour and draw. She would supervise us while I played tag, hide and seek with my brother, and with the kids in our neighbourhood. She would sort out our quarrels and would teach us to get along with one another. She would stand under the shade of a tree or chat with the neighbours, but all the while she would have an eye on us. It was due to her, I trust, that my parents could work in peace.
My mother came back at 5 in the evening, and the selfish me would run to her the moment I saw her-Atha forgotten. The next day, I would be my normal self with Atha. I never bothered about what she did in the evening hours when I was little. As I grew, I became curious, and my curiosity was satisfied during vacation when I had a lot more time to spare. Atha would go to the market to make purchases and later prepare dinner for herself. She would have her dinner and would then spend some time chatting with my mom or with the ladies in the neighbourhood till it was time to sleep.
We used to give her a monthly sum and would also share the sweets and savouries my mother prepared on festivals and birthdays. She would accept these shyly. Time went by, and we grew up and outgrew the need for a caretaker. She, too, had grown old and decided that she would go back to her native village to live with her sister.
Atha turned up one day at our home as I was getting ready for school. I must have been around 12 years or so. I ran to her, and she hugged me hard. I could see the amazement in her eyes when she saw that we had grown up. She had come just to see us and had remarked, “ Are you the little ones I used to hold and carry?” And added “how I wish we could go back in time and you became the little ones again and I could carry you in my arms”. She then spoke to my parents, and I requested her to stay back till I came home from school, as I wanted to talk to her. She said that she had made the trip to the town as she had some official work to attend to, and said she would be leaving for her village that evening. I was sad, but my mother promised that she would take me to her.
Years have gone by, but the memories of the days spent with Atha are still fresh in my mind.