Pratyusha - beginning of an end?

Growing up we used to shift a lot. Dad working at a bank meant transfer every 3-5 years, and even if we were in a single city for a continuous period of time, we used to change residence due to bank lease terms etc. This meant new language, new location, new friends, and a new culture. Everything new. But wherever we were located, every summer we used to visit my grandparents at Rajahmundry and there was a visit to Hyderabad attached. I always felt like I belonged to Hyderabad. Whenever anyone asked about my hometown/ native place I would say Hyderabad, much to my Mom’s frustration. I never could say Rajahmundry, the city where I was born and my maternal family was located. Nor would I say West Godavari, where my paternal family hails from. Might be it was because of Pratyusha. Visiting Hyderabad meant visiting Pratyusha. In all this moving around and changes, Pratyusha was one stable factor, sort of an anchor.

Who is Pratyusha, you ask? Well, the question should be what and not who. You see, Pratyusha was our house. In the early 70s, Dad took up the project of building a house. In those days it was a great achievement at his age to build a house. Now, owning a house is no big deal, you get a job, apply for a loan, select a reputed builder and you are all set. In the 70s, house construction was a project. The entire family had to pitch in. You needed to get involved at every stage – right from getting blueprints, hiring contractor and labour, buying cement, sand and bricks, choosing the floor tiles, electrical fittings, everything. I remember we had shifted near the construction site so we could keep an eye on the progress. Mom says after school, I would freshen up and go to the construction site to complete my homework. I don’t remember that but I do remember sitting on the window ledge while the floor was getting polished. My paternal grandparents stayed with us during the whole time, to help my parents with all the supervision and give suggestions. My maternal grandparents also used to drop in time-to-time. I think the construction took close to six months.  

Once completed, we shifted with much fanfare. There are so many memories. Like the time Dad bought and set up a wall clock and Mom explained how to tell time; getting a black and white TV and hosting the entire neighbourhood for Sunday evening movies; starting a garden; getting lost on the way home from school on a rainy day; and much more. We took pride in the house, so much so that cleaning the window grills didn’t seem like a task. Checking the water level in the overhead tank was a big responsibility. Alas, all good things come to an end. Dad got transferred. Hardly 2yrs of stay and we had to move. My brother was wondering how we would pack and move the house!!!

After about a decade, Dad got transferred back to Hyd. And back to the beloved Pratyusha. It was like a reunion, and for a brief period, I got my own room. No need to share the room with brother. For the 4years that we stayed, the top floor was constructed, the plants had become trees. Now I started witnessing the troubles that my parents were going through to maintain the house – from getting a plumber or electrician for repairs, getting a maid to sweep around the house, everything was an achievement. But still it was our Pratyusha and none of it seemed like a chore. College days, traveling by city bus, going to exhibitions, everything was fun. Later when I got married, this was the base (parents were at Mumbai then). Same when my brother got married.

All this nostalgia, Pratyusha as we knew it would soon be coming down. Like with everything else in life, Pratyusha is getting upgraded. An apartment complex will be coming in its place – Swarna Pratyusha Residency. Though we stayed there for hardly 6years of its 40+ years of existence (for 20+ years, my maternal uncle stayed there and we had access to it whenever we wanted) still pangs of separation are being felt.