Charity Begins at Home

The melodious chime of the doorbell echoed through the spacious halls of Mukundam Villa.

Ananya’s eyes shot open, a smile adorning her face. It was Saturday, 6:30 AM, and the annual Parisu Vizha was about to get underway.

She flung her sheet to the side and springing up, jammed her feet into her slippers and sprinted to the bathroom. Mani anna was here with his bounty. Pavi akka would let him in but she had to hurry. She didn’t want to miss a second of helping him sort out everything he had brought.

At 6:50 AM, freshly showered in a white cotton churidhar, wavy wet hair clinging to her waist, she made her way to the enormous verandah that hugged all four sides of the villa. She found him and Pavi akka unloading the bags from his trusty Maruti 800.

“That car has been through a war and then some, and still, it clings to life,” Ananya often declared amusedly. Mani anna only rolled his eyes and blushed fiercely always at her next words. “Just like you cling to Pavi akka.”

“Annie, vaa ma, we were just about to sort,” Mani anna said affectionately.

Ananya grinned. “Here, Mani anna. Give me the clothes.” The clothes were her favourite part of the sorting ritual and Mani anna always left it to her.

The Parisu Vizha was the best time of the year. Every summer, her large family gathered up all the possessions they felt they didn’t need (and there was a lot, considering their collective wealth amounted to nearly 270 crores, at last count) and it was all given away.

“Charity begins at home, Annie.” Her soft-spoken, loving mother was the brains behind Parisu Vizha.

“Why is it called Parisu Vizha, Amma?”

Annie still remembered the answer her mother had given her all those years ago, clear as day. “Because it really is a prize ceremony, kanna.” She had fondly ruffled Annie’s hair. “We are giving away, not things that are old or used or worn out. We give to the villagers the things we’ve bought but don’t use.”

It was one of the pitfalls of wealth – the liberal spending of money. But Ananya supposed it was a blessing in disguise because look what the villagers got! Here was a whole set of clothes her aunt had bought on impulse during a trip to Mashobra. There was a brand-new LED 66-inch TV that her father had just had to have when he’d gone to China on a work trip.

The shipping alone had cost a fortune and it hadn’t even been unpacked yet.

Here was a set of emerald crystals that her sister had picked up when she’d gone to the mall with her boyfriend. And there was Ananya’s contribution to Vizha – 6 smartphones, 5 tablets and 3 laptops. All purchased in the last six months because she claimed she didn’t like the features in each one she bought.

Nobody ever spoke to each other about the lavish, sometimes ridiculous spending, that the family got upto – because everyone knew the truth.

They were really shopping for Parisu Vizha.

What had begun as a spring-cleaning ritual 17 years ago had fast become a ceremony, in its every sense. The villagers came in new attire, freshly bathed and combed, and sat about on the huge lawns of Mukundam Villa which were bedecked with shamiyanas.

Vizha began at 9:00 AM. Breakfast and lunch, sourced from the finest 5-star hotel in town, were dished out abundantly. The villagers ate to their hearts’ fill while walking around the various stalls set up on the lawns.

Every stall was manned by a family member. The villagers would pick out an item of their choice and it would then be carefully packed in microfiber bags with a personalized note and a handful of chocolates.

For the larger items, like the TV, delivery services would be on standby through the day to drop off the selected item at the doorstep of the villager’s house.

It was always a glorious day, filled with generosity and kindness and laughter. All boundaries disappeared and all differences melted in the face of blazing love.

There was no give or take on the day of Parisu Vizha.

During these days, Ananya often recalled the words of her guru on charity. “Charity is not an ordinary act but a position of immense privilege. Reflect on it and you’ll discover what a blessing it is to be able to give something back to our world.”

What a blessing her family had been given.

Ananya was brought out of her reverie when the doorbell chimed again. She was nearly done sorting out the clothes.

She laughed delightedly when she heard the buzz of the villagers walking onto the lawns.

Parisu Vizha was about to begin!