Then, of course, we have to listen to why they can't. Some have important work to do, some have children to settle, some have property to buy and so on. It is strange how many of them feel the need for long explanations about what keeps them from calling it quits. It's as if they are under pressure to say that they would if they could. Our reaction is predictable. We make inane noises like "actually, one has to choose the right time". "We were lucky we had no liabilities". Things we need to say in order to put our guests at ease.
The other refrain we often hear is how a couple would like to move to Santiniketan but are wary of doing so because of the lack of medical facilities. They have questions on the state of the government hospitals, the lack of private nursing homes, path-lab facilities, visiting doctors and so on.
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Since my partner runs a free-sheeter (a tabloid distributed for free) for Bolpur-Santiniketan that lists available services, we pretty much have the answers to their questions. They hear us out but are clearly not impressed. We wonder whether it is because they do not wish to be here. For those used to the excitement of the city, the lack of entertainment infrastructure in Santiniketan is daunting.
All this information seeking is inevitably followed up with a question which they are sure will finally stump us. "But what if there is an emergency?" they ask trying to validate their reasons for not shifting. "What kind?" we ask. Let's list the possible medical emergencies. More often than not the answer is "heart attack". "How soon would we be able to get to a hospital? Durgapur or Burdwan is more than an hour away!"
Maybe because I have not been diagnosed with a weak heart, I have the luxury of arrogance. But in city traffic what is the guaranteed time within which a patient can reach a hospital? For the rich, even if they shifted into hospitals permanently would that be an insurance against a heart attack?
While I was dealing with these morbid thoughts, our neighbour who lives with a domestic help was preparing to celebrate her 100th birthday! Her husband had passed away years ago. She did not have any children, so she decided to stay on in Santiniketan even though many relatives had pleaded with her to shift to the city to be close to them and to medical facilities as well. Many of them had gathered to celebrate this momentous occasion and the house that normally seemed desolate suddenly came alive.
But if the lady whose body had become fragile, but her mind remained sharp, was expecting to see all her friends and relatives, she certainly was not prepared for the surprise from a younger acquaintance who teaches in a nearby tribal school. The teacher brought with her a bunch of students, who then lit 100 candles and sang a song for the centurion. The unexpectedness of it made the rendering so special.
For me, the song dedicated to a lady so strong reiterated how we need to all celebrate life and not fear.