Piku — Call for homecoming for those who flew the coop

A heart-warming, feel-good film can touch you in ways that may not be pleasant. Shoojit Sircar’s Piku should have been a joyous trip! A well-rounded family entertainer, it worked because of the angularities of the three main characters played by Amitabh Bachchan, Deepika Padukone and Irrfan. Bhaskor (Bachchan) Banerjee’s hilarious preoccupation with his bowel movements, Piku (Padukone’s) fierce commitment to her father’s well-being, her exasperations of dealing with a 70-year-old difficult child, and Rana’s (Irrfan) job set-back coupled with his inability to handle the turbulence at home, offer the audience a getaway from their own problems. However, for some of us living far away from old and infirm parents, it brewed an unsettling concoction of sadness, guilt and regret — of what we had left behind in the pursuit of happiness. Unlike Piku, whose life revolved around her father’s imaginary illnesses and eccentricities, we flew the coop when they needed us the most.

In a way, Piku is lucky to have been living in Delhi, which has been conducive to her profession as an architect. Many of us have had to move out of home because the towns and cities we grew up in had limited opportunities. The youth are too restless to vegetate; to spread roots in a land that has turned fallow. The diaspora — a term also applicable to those who stay in a part of India that’s 2,000-km away from where their parents live — embraced the rough and tumble for a new beginning. Success comes with a price-tag, and you can’t hanker for a bargain if you need it desperately. The price is leaving behind people who once meant the world to us, and for whom our phone calls and occasional visits become the greatest pleasures.

The empty-nest syndrome, once associated with Western civilisation, is a depressing reality in India. Parents have learnt to let go because holding back amounts to being selfish. Spending the last days in an old-age home, finding love and comfort in the company of men and women facing similar predicament, is an eventuality that the elderly are coming to terms with. There is also the reality of parents stubbornly refusing to move in with their child in a different city, in spite of knowing that staying together would make life easy for all of them.

The grand narrative about India reaping huge demographic dividends by 2050 with a young and energetic workforce, devotes little space for the country’s graying population. Well past their prime to contribute to the growth story, they would perhaps be guarding the nests in the hope that someday the children would return. In the film, Piku’s change of heart saved Champakunj — a beautiful, ancestral house in Kolkata — from being demolished. In reality, these old sprawling buildings, difficult to maintain, and with no one to look after them, are disappearing fast. “Perhaps, this is the way forward,” as Rana says in the film, in a conversation with Piku, but what happens to our already tenuous links to the past, our roots? Will they reside only in our fond memories of growing up in a house or neighbourhood, as a backdrop in the digital images of our parents? There are no easy answers or quick-fix solutions. And, it isn’t prudent to only listen to the heart in such complex matters. But, Piku might stir someone’s conscience, inspire a kindred soul, to come back home before it’s too late.

The author is senior assistant editor with dna