And Then One Day: A Memoir

by Naseeruddin Shah

For a moment I thought I was being hassled at the bus stop by a cop, and started gathering my things to move along, then remembered I was home and this was the one voice I hadn’t missed at all— Baba’s. They were both early risers and he had just risen and opened the door to find this bedraggled prodigal asleep on his bedroll on the doorstep. ‘Get up! Go meet your mother!’ he said, brushing aside my insincere apologetic mumbling. Ammi for the only time in her life abandoned her namaaz as I entered the bedroom. She held me in her arms with a fury I had never sensed in her, weeping and thanking the God who had brought me safely home. The smell of Ammi’s clothes I can still recall and I wallowed in it for as long as I could. The first breakfast in over sixty days lodged in my stomach, and a much-needed haircut and bath having been administered, I was marched off to the mosque to gain further absolution by giving thanks for having been delivered from ‘the path that had wrought (His) anger’. I instead entreated Him to ensure I would make it back to Bombay some day.