Go-getter Grandma

Go-getter Grandma and the Kite Flyers 

By Hemanth Kumar

Janaki Patti looked out of the kitchen window, for a look at the temple and the huge tree near it. But today a paper kite stuck on the branches of the tree distracted her. 

Janaki Patti was a widow in her late sixties, living with her son’s family. Quite active and one who believed in taking direct action, on her daily walk to the temple, she detoured to the tree and, with the help of a boy, retrieved the kite. 

At noon, her son, who was the headmaster at the village school, came in for lunch. He had made a fortune abroad and returned to settle down nearer to his birthplace and to help the people in the area in any way he could. 

“Tomorrow’s meeting of Panchayat (village council) is unlikely to approve the proposal for a playground for the school,” he told his mother.

“What happened? Why this last-minute hitch?” 

“This morning I had to suspend Ganesh, the son of the Panchayat head. The boy had a fight with Pramod, his classmate and the son of our local real estate tycoon, as you know. Pramod is out of action for a few days with a fractured leg.” 

“Why are you involved?”

“Pramod’s father came to the school to tell me Pramod will be on sick leave and chanced to meet the Panchayat leader. They exchanged words. I had to intervene and when I questioned Ganesh, he admitted his guilt. What could I do?”

The headmaster, the real estate tycoon and six others served as members, but if the council head was against a proposal, he could use his veto power. The empty lot next to the school belonged to the real estate tycoon (who had dozens of properties in the village, and in other nearby villages and towns). He had generously declared that he would give the empty lot to the school free of cost to be used as a playground, provided it bore his father’s name. The school was happy to oblige, and the Panchayat was expected to approve it in the meeting scheduled for the next day. And now this problem…

In the afternoon, Janaki Patti went out. She first called on Pramod’s father, the real estate tycoon. On seeing her, a smile emerged from his worried face. 

“Come in, come in. Any day, anytime you’re welcome and today you’re 110% welcome. Hope you have brought your delicious buttermilk” 

A sigh of pleasure came forth from the man as he sipped the tasty, aromatic buttermilk that Janaki Patti always served to everyone. She knew her buttermilk helped in her successful efforts at making the village a model, ‘the most progressive, the most developed village’ in the state.

Like many others in the village, the tycoon knew her part in the village's development and welcomed it: it increased the real estate value.

Just when she was about to ask after Pramod, the tycoon himself opened the conversation. Yes, his son and Ganesh, the Panchayat leader’s boy, had a fight and yes, his leg was fractured. The tycoon was facing another urgent problem. An important letter he had received by post a few days back was missing. He had promised to give it to his lawyer to strengthen his court case about a real estate deal. His search, turning his entire house upside down, was in vain. He was at his wit’s end.

“Now you see my problems. I’m 110% upset. You’ve come at the correct time. Please help and solve these things. I’ll be 110% grateful. Meanwhile, you want to see Pramod?”

She saw the boy lying on his bed with one leg covered with bandages. The boy smiled weakly at her and readily repeated his story. All the while, Janaki Patti’s mind was busy. She asked him a few questions and his answers strengthened her surmise. “Okay, Pramod. Take some rest. See you soon.”

She had a talk with his father and assured him of her help and extracting a promise in return. “Janaki Patti, not for nothing you are called a wonder woman. You’ll make a shrewd business woman! Okay, I promise and when I promise I do it 110%.”

Her next port of call was to the Panchayat leader. His hot temper came down after he had sipped the tasty buttermilk. Still, he was adamant that nothing could be done on the next day’s meeting about the proposed playground and what was more, he would show who was the boss in the village to that man, no matter how big a landlord he was.

Janaki Patti told him, “I came to see Ganesh. How is he coping with being suspended from school? Could I talk to him? And I’ll do my best to remove the suspension. As for you and your political ambitions, listen to me and you’ll go far. Learn to get rid of your temper and reduce your ego. For tomorrow’s meeting specifically, promise me these two things.” 

The only person in the village who could talk like this to the Panchayat head got his assurance that he’d co-operate. 

Next day at six in the evening, the meeting started with Janaki Patti unanimously welcomed as a special guest. She had earlier talked briefly with her son and he now rose to address the meeting.  

“It will please you to know that I have with immediate effect withdrawn the suspension of student Ganesh, our Panchayat head’s son. The special guest present here has uncovered a lot of things. She will now tell us about these matters.”

“The suspension is withdrawn because there was no fight at all between the boys,” Janaki Patti told them. “Both the boys were flying their kites with ‘manja’, with tiny glass pieces glued to the kite flying thread. Pramod’s kite was cut, and it flew adrift into a treetop. While trying to climb that tree, Pramod fell and fractured his leg. As they knew the use of manja is banned, the boys hatched this story of a quarrel.” 

“How did you know this?” asked a member.

“I visited Pramod and saw that he had no scratches or scrapes or injuries anywhere else on his body. So, I doubted he was beaten up. Earlier, I had arranged to retrieve the kite stuck on the tree top and saw the thread still attached to the kite had manja on it. Two plus two is four. Pramod came clean and told me everything.”

“There was an envelope taped to a corner of the kite, apparently to improve its stability. It was not damaged, and it was the letter Pramod found with old newspapers while he was making the kite. His father will be very glad to have it now.” Janaki Patti handed over the envelope to the real estate tycoon. She pointed out to him he had absent-mindedly kept it with the newspapers and it would have gone to the raddiwala for recycling had Pramod not taken it.

With everyone sipping Janaki Patti’s trademark buttermilk, the meeting proceeded smoothly. The Panchayat leader said, “Firstly, let me apologise if I had hurt anyone’s feelings with my angry outbursts. I’ll try to curb my temper from now on. Secondly, I fully support and approve the proposal for the school to have a playground,” and here he paused for a moment and looking at Janaki Patti, added “Also, I’ll see that the Panchayat budget includes some playground equipment too, to fulfil my promise.”

“I am 110% happy at the way things turned out, thanks to this wonderful lady. I stand by my earlier announcement of gifting the empty land for the playground and further (here he swallowed and was looking at Janaki Patti, who nodded encouragingly) … I will fully fund the cost of a compound wall for the playground.” 

Loud cheers and thumping of tables. The headmaster gave a vote of thanks, mentioning that the village was fortunate to have a person like Janaki Patti. To which Janaki Patti replied, “Thank you and I urge him to remember these words when he scrutinizes my next household budget.” Peals of laughter swirled around as the meeting came to an end.

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