Is Someone Really Listening?

 Recently, my brother texted a message to me with a mention of some money.  After reading his message, I opened my mobile payment service app for some verification and was surprised to find that my brother’s name appeared on the top of suggested payees.  On another day, my launderer delivered clothes and when I opened my mobile payment service app, his name topped.  In this case, there was no exchange of messages, but the mere vicinity stimulated the prompting I suppose. Whenever I do searches on internet officially on my office machine, related advertisements appear on my social media and on my phone search engines and I don’t understand this connect.

 

In this context, I want to share another story, which is in no way connected to technology, but I feel they are similar.

 

When I was around 8 years old, there were two Indian Almond Trees (Badam) in our locality.  One in a neighbour’s backyard and another in a gated farm. The process of extracting the tiny nuts from the corky fruit is tough but exciting.   Though many children in the locality stormed these two places to collect the fallen fruits, our parents who were very strict, never allowed us to indulge in this activity.  Occasionally, we got the fruits that were carried by squirrels, parrots & crows and dropped in our garden.  On a rare Sunday morning, I & my sister with a few girls went to the gated farm to collect Badam fruits.  A boy living there generously distributed the fruits he collected and preserved in a large bamboo basket, to all of us.  In our tiny hands, we could collect 5-6 fruits.  Both I and my sister brought them home safely and kept them on a window sill, silently.  We had guests at home that evening and I was busy helping my mother in the kitchen, preparing and serving snacks to the guests.  After the guests had left, I remembered the fruits we brought and looked at the sill.  I couldn’t find them, but I found the shells strewn around.  When I asked my sister who was my partner in this activity, she replied that my dad had cracked open the fruits and distributed the nuts to everyone at home. I was so shocked, I started crying.  I climbed the stairs, sat down on the steps, away from my people and cried continuously.  I must have cried for two hours at least and the saddest part was nobody noticed my absence.  I was very sad because, even as a child, I never touched anything that was not mine.  Also, I never ate anything alone.  It was always shared, however small the quantity was.  I was very disappointed my siblings, particularly my sister did not notice I wasn’t around when they ate those nuts. More than this, I could not digest the fact that, my dad, whom I considered a very fair person, casually cracked open those fruits without checking whose they were and giving them away.  This was like an insult to injury.  The pain I experienced in those two hours was cumulative.  I recollected all sad experiences till then and cried for them too.  I was very angry.  How can my parents and older siblings who are very strict in everything else, be casual when its convenient for them?  The pain increased  when no one even attempted to pacify me.  When it was time for dinner, my mother called for me, first to help her set the table.  I don’t remember how that drama concluded that night.  From the next morning, life was as usual.  I had completely forgotten about this episode that had happened some four and half decades ago.

 

But why am I remembering this now?

 

That gated farm vanished.  The house garden that had a Badam tree redeveloped. But our locality now has many Badam trees.  As avenue trees in some lanes and in many backyards, including ours. The tree in our backyard too has started yielding and on most of the days, I find a fruit or two on the same steps, I sat down many decades ago and cried for hours.  The first time I realised this, I had goosebumps.  I wonder, “is someone really listening?”  It might sound silly, but I experience absolute bliss everytime I find the fruit, particularly, on those steps.