Life
Oblivious to the hustle and bustle of the city, more importantly ignoring the feverish pitch at the office towards the year-end (our sales year starts in April and ends in March) rush to bring in the committed numbers, a pair of pigeons set up family. They built a nest atop the lighting panel in our restroom. Cozy little place. The female pigeon laid the eggs and sat on them to hatch. As we enter the restroom, we can see her watching us to see if we meant any trouble. It is pretty unnerving to relieve oneself watched by a female, even if she is just a pigeon. I googled about this and to my relief found that the male and the female birds take turns to brood, and that the male takes the morning shift. Thank God for small mercies. The eggs hatched in about 2 week’s time. There were 2 of them. The fledglings were very quiet. Possibly instructed by their parents not to disturb us, as we went about our daily grind. The proud parents would fly in all day through the window, with food for their children.
I went on an official tour and when I returned the family had flown away.
Falling in love.... Again
I am in love. So overwhelming in love, I don’t know what to do. I debated for 2 to 3 days on if I should go public with my feelings. What will be the consequences? What about the embarrassment? How would my family react? Would I be able to cope with it? Finally the heart won and I decided to follow what my heart said.
Gratitude
(With sincere thanks to Shail)
My name is James. You most probably would have seen me if you live in the 43rd ward. I am the garbage collector. Everyday, I pull my tricycle and collect garbage from the houses here. I serve about 600 houses. And I can vouch that there are at least 100 kinds of people in this world or more. There is Mrs. Laila, who treats me kindly. She usually separates the garbage into bio degradable and non bio degradable stuff and places the two piles neatly by her compound wall. On festivals and other special days she makes it a point to give me some dishes they cook at home. And there are the Rajans, who treat me, worse than the garbage that they generate. Their looks of contempt, whenever they see me are too strong to bear. There is this lady, on the 4th street, who makes me clean her sewage tank and gives me just ten rupees for it. It would take 2 hours of my time and the money wouldn’t be enough even to buy soap to get the stink off the body. Then why do I do it, you might ask? Because, I don’t have a choice. To be fair, there are a few of those who give me twenty or thirty rupees every month, though they don’t have to. There are also people who throw their garbage in front of other people’s houses. The dogs, and there are quite a few of those stray ones, would strew them all over the place. The worst part is that I get blamed for this too. Actually the dogs form a part of my entourage when I go garbage hunting. I segregate the waste to be taken to a bigger bin, which would then be cleared by the trucks. There are a few plastic bags hanging out on the sides of the tricycle. Whatever I think can be recycled, I take away to make some money on the side. Whenever I find something that the dogs can use as ‘breakfast’, I pass it on to them. But they follow me at a safe distance. They know that I am not benevolent on all days. Some days, especially if I have crossed path with one of the Rajans, the dogs would have it that day. I would kick them or throw big stones at them. The white lame one would bear the brunt of my ferociousness on such days. It is the one with the back right leg broken. Probably had an argument with a car or a lorry and lost it. Somehow it, as it hobbles on its three legs, reminds me of my pathetic life. But this is not about my routine or about the people I encounter.
I got married recently. A fortnight ago. I can see a few eye brows going up. A bride for a garbage man? This girl was a distant relative. She wasn’t getting any matches either. My mother was nagging me. Probably she planned to get some money from the girl’s parents as dowry, I don’t know. After a while I gave in. The wedding itself was a simple affair at a nearby temple. A few people from the girl’s side and a few people from the conservancy agency where I work for made for the motley crowd. Rani, that is my wife’s name, would eventually be a part of garbage collecting team. But I didn’t want to pull her into this filth just as yet. Rani’s uncle couldn’t come for the wedding or most probably didn’t want to come. He works as a manger, somewhere. He would have thought it was beneath his dignity to attend a garbage man’s wedding. So he did the next best thing. He invited us for lunch. He lived in one of the posh localities. There was a small problem. To get to the bus terminus to catch a bus to the uncle’s house, I had to pass through the area where I work. No big deal, you might say, but I was scared that I might be recognized. So last Sunday, my wife and I dressed in our best clothes started out. I was very conscious of myself. I passed Mr. Rajan. There wasn’t the usual scorn, reserved for me whenever I pass him. Mrs. Laila was standing on her balcony. As I looked up, she looked at me, but there were no signs of recognition. There were others too on the way, who would have recognized me if I was in my uniform of grey shirt and shorts. There was a huge relief but to be honest I was a little disappointed as well. As I made the last turn to the main road, I turned back. The three legged fellow was behind me wagging its tail.
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I outdid myself this time. My first blog for the year would be somewhere in the middle of January, and this time around it has spilled over to the first week of February. Is it drying up of ideas? Au-contraire there are many things I want to write, but they are all flowing in other directions than into my blog I hope things will turn out for the better.
I also look back at the year gone by and notice with dismay that I have not thanked people for what they have done for me.
First, there is Usha, she has been sending me awards my way left, right and centre and I have not even acknowledged that, but more importantly I want to thank her for her efforts to highlight my inane comments in four lines (sometimes more) on her beautiful poetry.
Thanks, is also due to Somakritya, and also my apologies for failing acknowledge the awards and tags she has been conferring. I also need to thank her for the child like enthusiasm that she spreads as I read her posts and also for making me realize that we don’t have to take life so seriously. Her efforts in coxing me to stand up and take the first tentative steps have failed. I am scared and refuse even to get up
How can I forget Shail, Susan, Pallavi or Ashes, who have long ago seen me for the dud I am, and have stopped coming to my blog, but they still remain good friends in spite of that knowledge. Thank you for that.
Gaurav is my uncle, an epitome of knowledge who had taught me a lot of things, but most importantly how to live life to the fullest shrugging off all the pain that he had to undergo.
Thank you Charusree, for making me think a lot. In fact this story would have been seeded by this post of hers.
I have to thank my colleagues. Ramsundar, Vijay. Kesavan and Sujatha, who are so busy that they don’t have time to comment on my posts but somehow still manage to read them on the Reader.
The same can’t be said about Ramnarayanan, who reads and comments on my post. I only hope for his own good that he realizes just like Shail & co that I am an empty person and move on.
To my numerous followers of my blog, okay okay, to a few people like Bhavesh, ThechronicR, Talin401 and Shiny who were willing to take the risk and who could be counted on the fingers of one of my hands, a big thanks. I know that I have not even made a visit to your blogs and that you deserve better.
I have to thank my sons for being understanding and mature at a very young age. I wasn’t mature even at twice their age. For that matter I am still not mature enough.
I have saved the best for last. Or the last for the best. Either way it works out. I salute my wife who puts up with all my idiosyncrasies and has to take the brunt of my anger, frustrations, sadness and fears.
I am very glad that I am able to co-habitat this universe with you and be your contemporary. Thank you all.
Domestic Woes
At the outset, for people who think that this post is about the tribulations I suffer go through at the hands of my wife, let me clarify that it is not. My wife has expressly forbidden me to use her as a subject for my post, unless I paid her a royalty (?) for doing so. You would have noticed that the frequency of my posts have trickled due to exactly this reason. There is some good news though. I am working my ass off to save some money so that I will be able to do some posts on her. Anyways this is not about that.
Recently my company worried that I might develop seat sores (see I was serious when I said I was working my ass off) asked me to go to New Delhi. A high level delegation from Sri Lankawas visiting India led by their Minister of Health Honorable Maithripala Sirisena and other important health officials. They wanted to meet the representatives from the Indian Pharmaceutical Industry. The Pharmaceuticals Export Promotion Council, Pharmexcil for short, had arranged for a get together. Since I was handling sales and marketing in Sri Lanka(or it might have been due to seat sores worry) I was nominated by my company to attend the meeting. The venue was ‘The Taj Palace’ The meeting was to start at 11 amwhich meant that I had to catch the early morning flight from Chennai. Getting ready at that unearthly hour is a pain. Especially when you are going straight to the meeting hall from the airport. You need to be all dressed and decked up. It has been quite a while since I flew the domestic sector. I am always a little weary of it. The flight was at 6.30 and so I had to leave home at 4.30 at least. All flights that I take out of the country are around mid-night, which gave me adequate time to have my dinner and get ready to go to ‘land of the nod’. It is another matter, that by the time my co-passengers settle down after having the in-flight meal and you are about to nod, that it is time to land.
Anyways I didn’t have any problems in reaching the airport on time. The Chennai airport is undergoing renovation and as I entered the airport I was taken aback by the crowd in the check-in area. The whole area was teeming with people. There was a flight out of Chennai to every conceivable destination. It makes sense to take the first flight out and be in time for business at the destination, saving on hotel bills. Luckily since I had taken a print-out of the boarding pass and I was carrying only my laptop bag, check in was easy. There was a long serpentine queue for the security check. True to Murphy’s Law, when my chance came the security guy got a call and he left me standing like the vitruvian man. Since they had asked me to remove my belt and shoes for scanning, there was an uneasy feeling that my trousers would fall off. I have to do something about the pot belly. It is situations like this which brings out the prasava vairgyam. Luckily for me, before I could take a few more resolutions, the security person came and stamped my boarding pass. Since the traffic was maximum at that time of the day, my flight was not connected to the aerobridge and we had to go by the bus to board the aircraft. All these activities(?) made me hungry. I got a window in the first row. There was enough space to stretch my legs and promptly went off to sleep. I was awakened by a sweet looking stewardess. She was standing next to the food cart. Ah food at last!
‘Would you like to buy something, sir?’ she asked smiling radiantly.
What was I hearing? Buy? Weren’t they supposed to give me something?
‘Pardon me?’, I asked, very sure that I hadn’t heard her correctly due to the grogginess caused by my sleep.
She closed her eyes and instinctively opened page 119, Chapter 19 of the air hostess training manual ‘How to answer dumb as a dodo passengers’. She opened her eyes, gave me a big smile and said, “Sir, you know that we don’t serve any meals on this flight, but if you are interested you can buy something to eat or drink. I asked her the prices for what they had to offer. There appeared to be a huge gap between the prices and the quantities they were offering. I was still undecided. I looked at the elderly gentleman sitting on my left. He looked like a seasoned traveler. He was wired to his ipod and was looking straight ahead, completely oblivious to what was happening between me and the air hostess. By the looks of it, he was not going to buy anything. So I decided to do the same. I informed the air hostess, that I wouldn’t need anything. True to the last line in the aforementioned chapter of the training manual –Remember never show your irritation on the passenger however dumb they might be- she smiled, said thank you and moved forward.
As soon as the airhostess had moved, the gentleman got up, opened the overhead baggage bin, took out a box from his bag and sat down. He opened the box to reveal steaming upma, setting my salivary glands into overwork. I turned towards the window and sat pretending I was watching the scenes outside, swallowing litres of saliva. It was a good thing that my nose was not working as it should; otherwise I would have flooded the aircraft with my digestive secretions. I consoled myself that I might have my breakfast in the comforts of a 5 star restaurant, anyways it was the company which was going to pay for it. But when I reached the hotel, the restaurant had already closed and I had to do with a tea and a couple of cookies.
The saving grace was that the meeting started on time. Obviously the Sri Lankan minister has a lot to learn from his Indian counterparts. After the customary welcome, the speech from the minister and other officials, the question and answer session, the meet came to an end in time for lunch. The stomach was grumbling so much, that couple of times the moderator looked at me to see if I had any questions for the speaker. The lunch was sumptuous and tasty. The minister had some other appointment and he left in a hurry. After some small talk with the other members of the entourage I left to catch my flight back.
The Indira Gandhi International Airport is very impressive and I hope that it remains so. This time around I was not going to take any chances, I bought couple of things to eat, in case they don’t serve anything on the flight. Though I will be home for dinner, you can never know what time you will reach home, given the traffic scenario in Chennai. Another thing is getting a taxi at the Chennai airport, you need to stand in a big queue before you will get your turn, unless you preferred the old Ambassador ones, that too without the A/C.
They did serve a light meal on the flight.
Lesson
I have been suspended pending enquiry. For misappropriation. I work as a clerk in the bank. Initially it just started as a game. I wanted to see if I could surreptitiously open an account. And when I did, I was exhilarated. I slowly started scouting for inactive and dormant accounts. I was careful in choosing my victims. Old people, who wouldn’t use technology to do their banking. Surprising, there were a lot of them who fit the bill. I started transferring small amounts of money from these accounts. To avoid suspicion I opened a few more accounts. It was a big branch and there were many accounts that I could lay my hands on. When I found out that I was not going to be found out, I grew a bit more confident and started transferring more money more frequently. In case you were wondering, this would not be possible without some inside help for which I had to offer a cut from the proceeds. One day a customer had come to close his account. I had transferred some money from his account only the previous day. Unfortunately I was not in the bank that day; otherwise I would have been able to cover this up. When the shit hit the ceiling, everybody else involved conveniently feigned ignorance. One thing led to another, and here I am under suspension.
When I came home, wondering how I was to break the news of my suspension to my wife, my son came jumping to me. He had never seen me come so early. ’Papa, he said jubilantly, I have come first in class. He is studying in the 5th grade. He was holding the answer sheets in his hand. I was in no mood to share his joy. His happiness was explicable. I had promised to get him a Playstation if he came first in class. I perfunctorily took the papers from his hand. He had got 100 percentiles in a couple of subjects, around 90’s in a few more and in the last one, 92% was struck and in its place the teacher had marked 83 + 1 totaling to 84% and ‘honesty’ written near the 1. I looked at him enquiringly. He jumped up and sat on my lap.
‘Papa, I had not written the answer for a 10 mark question, but my teacher had totaled up wrongly and given me 94’, he said. ‘I pointed out the mistake to the teacher and she gave me a additional mark for doing that’, he added.
‘Would you have still got the first rank if you had only 83 ?’, I asked knowing fully well that the boys always tally up their marks before the rank card is given out.
‘No Papa, I would have been 2nd but now I am joint 1st’, he said. ‘
But, didn’t you think about losing your rank and also your Playstation before telling the teacher about the error?, I asked incredulously.
‘Yes Papa, I knew that I would get only the 2nd rank, but luckily the teacher gave me an extra mark, he said gleefully. ‘Grandpa always says, it is not right to take what doesn’t belong to us, he added as an after-thought.
Tears ran down my cheeks.
7 Billion and me
I don’t know how far the above facts are correct, but it was fun.
The Journey
She had to move to a small town in Tamil Nadu, where the man she was married to was working as a medical representative. Leaving her parents, sister and her job, to adapt to the family she has moved into, as her own. Her husband continued to hang around with his friends in his free time, never realizing there was someone at home feeling home sick and lonely. Not that it was deliberate; he was not mature enough to know the real significance of the relationship.
The delivery of her first son was traumatic. A near death experience. It had to be a C section because of her physical structure. As she lay unconscious, before coming out of the anesthesia, her BP dropped. There was a mad rush to get her the blood she needed. The child was howling away with hunger. He prayed fervently that nothing should happen to her. A realization of how much she meant to him.
She moved with him to Andhra Pradesh, with their one year old son. His traveling job meant that she had to take care of the son, for most times on her own, from sickness and pain. In course of time, she had to follow him to wherever his transfers and promotions took him. The responsibility of setting up shop at each of these places was hers, as he did not have the time for all that.
The birth of their second son was problematic too. There were some blockages in his intestines, and the doctors had given only a 50% chance for survival. Fortunately she came to know of this only later. He had to go through a tense period before everything resolved itself.
She took utmost care of the children. For her the children came first in her set of priorities. And today, if they are doing very well academically and otherwise, the credit goes entirely to her, as he would be busy with his work that concerns a lot of travel.
But for her, he would not be half the man he is now. But there have been times where he had wanted to strangle her, whenever she made some observations that were unnervingly true and because truth, most times hurt.
The journey so far has been filled with periods of happiness, sadness, doubts, fear, uncertainties, contentment, and pure joy. A journey that was worth every second of it and a journey he wishes that would continue on forever. For she is always THE WOMAN for him. Today is yet another milestone in their journey. Wish them well.
A very happy DIWALI to you and your family.
PIC courtesy: INTERNET
X marks the spot
Somewhere in the middle of the night, he made love to her.
HE:
He woke up as the sunlight hit his face. He was confused. Was it a dream? Or was it for real? Then he saw her silhouetted against the window, as she drew the curtains aside. He still felt unsure of where he was. He was naked under the sheets. His head throbbed with a dull pain. He felt for it and realized that it was bandaged. So was his leg. The previous evening came back to him.
He and his partner were to meet a prospective client for their advertising agency. His partner had to back out at the last-minute as his father had to be hospitalized. It was too late to re-schedule the meeting. So he had to keep the appointment with the client. As it was he hated going for such meetings, but normally his partner would do all the negotiations and take the discussions to a favourable conclusions. All he had to was accompany his partner and smile his concurrence from time to time. His partner needed him for moral support. The arrangement had worked perfectly for both of them. Right from the time they came together last year to start their agency, he has been the ‘concept guy’ and his partner the execution man. For all their advertisement campaigns it was he, who would come up with an appropriate concept on which his partner would work his advertisements. You might remember the ‘genie in the bottle’ ad for the electronic major for their home appliances. They had just entered the home appliances segment and the prices were a little higher than the existing competitors. ‘Time is money’ he had said in one of the discussion they had with the manufacturer. So his partner had gone to work on the theme where he very decisively translated how the superior technology of the appliances was capable of saving time and in turn saved money. Whenever the appliance was used the genie in the bottle would come out, complete the work in a jiffy and would ask for more work. The advertisement had caught the imagination of the viewers and the client was able to garner a sizable market share, more than what they had worked out, in the first year itself. So it was, with other accounts too. He would come up with appropriate ideas/concepts that would be executed beautifully by his partner. He had a knack of touching a chord with the target audience, be it the affluent ones for the high-end products or the growing middle class who were making the economy boom with their newly acquired buying power.
They complemented each other perfectly and in the years they have been together nothing had come in between them, though there were a lot of people trying hard to drive a wedge between them. Both of them knew each other’s strengths; and their weakness’ as well. So last evening he had to meet their prospective customers on his own, much to his chagrin. They had lodged their customers in a resort some 40 Km from the city. He liked to drive and had never wanted to have a driver. He somehow felt that a driver would ‘overhear’ his thoughts. His partner had tried his best to make him see reason but eventually had to give in to his eccentricity. He drove all the way apprehensive of how the meeting would go. But the meeting had gone off well, much better than he had anticipated. The company was represented by their CEO and the Chief Financial Officer. They were highly understanding of the situation and had even said that business dealings could wait till his partner was able to be a part of the discussion. This in itself was a huge relief for him. He took an immediate liking to the CEO. The slightly balding man was soft and kind - a complete antithesis of a CEO that he had in mind. Added to that, he also reminded him of his father. He was surprised that he could make small talk. During dinner they had exchanged many anecdotes, you are never short of them in the advertising field or for that matter, in business. He had declined to have a drink, except for the toast they held out for the possibility of working together, citing that he had to drive back. By the time the dessert was served he was enjoying their company, the other two were visibly drunk and all his inhibitions had vanished. It was nearly 11 pm when they got up and promised to meet again once his partner was back.
Driving back, he felt elated as to how the evening had unfolded. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he missed the first splutter of the engine. He became aware when it happened again. He pushed down on the accelerator and the engine caught on. He pumped a couple of times and it became alright. Then suddenly without any warning the engine died. He pumped the accelerator, but nothing happened. He cruised to the side of the road and stopped. He turned the keys but the engines didn’t crank. He got down, opened the hood and peered inside. Not that he knew anything about cars. He gave a customary tug at the battery cables but nothing much changed. He was resigned to the fact that he was not mechanically inclined and called the dealer. The security picked up the phone and assured that somebody would come in the morning. Damn, he had reached the outskirts of the city. 20 more minutes and he would have been home. He locked his car and started walking towards the city. A few hundred meters on he had a suspicion that someone was following him. He turned back and saw a dark shadow of what seemed like two men. He quickened his pace and could instinctively feel that those following him were also walking fast. He broke into a run and entered a side street lined with houses on one side an empty ground on the other. He could hear the footsteps of his followers getting nearer. He made a mental calculation of what he had on himself. He had a few thousand rupees in his wallet, credit cards, an iPhone, a gold bracelet which his wife had bought for him on his birthday. A smile appeared on his face, she must be asleep peacefully at her mother’s place, he thought about his wife, momentarily forgetting about his situation. Suddenly he realized that his followers had caught up on him. From the corner of his right eye he could see a blur. As he turned to see what it was, a metal rod hit him on the forehead. He could immediately feel the warmth as the blood started flowing into his eyes. The stickiness of the blood was almost blinding. He blinked his eyes a few times and still his vision was hazy. He was really scared now. He could feel his heart pounding. He picked up speed, as the adrenalin helped his heart to pump more blood faster to all his cells. He could break away from them. Then suddenly his leg caught in a pothole, buckled, and he went sprawling on the ground. On the way down, his shin scraped the pavement, blinding him with an excruciating pain. The pain was unbearable. His body reacted the only way it could cope with the pain. He blacked out.
SHE:
Normally she would be home no later than 9 pm. She worked as a nurse in a private hospital. Though her shift ends at 7 pm, it would be 8 before she can leave the hospital. Occupational hazard of being a nurse, she would say, plus the fact there is none waiting for her at her house. She didn’t really mind spending some extra time at the hospital. Her house is about 10 km from the hospital and on a normal day would take her 30 to 45 minutes to reach home on her scooter. Yesterday evening was different. A lorry had rammed into a school bus, injuring about 30 odd children, some of them critically. Since the hospital was close to the accident site, the children were taken there for first aid and treatment. Giving first aid treatment was a little tricky as the children were already traumatized by the crash. Then there were a lot of official formalities to be completed; worried parents to be assured, so by the time she left the hospital making sure that her presence was no longer required, it was already close to quarter past 11. As it was pretty late, the ward boy offered to go with her to her house, drop her at her place, take the scooter to his house and pick her up the next day. Given the late hour the traffic was thin and they could reach her house in 15 minutes. As they neared her gate they saw a body sprawled on the ground, face down. They turned him over. His entire face was bloodied. She checked his pulse. It was feeble. They managed to lift him of the ground. A moan broke out from him. They managed to take him in and laid him on her bed. Dry blood had crusted on his face, making it appear as if he is wearing a bizarre face mask. With some hot water, they managed to scrub the dried blood off his face. There was a gaping wound, on the right side corner of his forehead. A couple of sutures were required to close the wound. She placed sterilized gauze and bandaged his head. They sat him up and removed his shirt. The whole of his body was bruised. She wanted to check if there were any other injuries on his body. She undid his belt and the attendant pulled down his trousers. On his left leg there was a gash on his calf muscle. She dressed the wound and stitched it up. He was delirious the whole time, mumbling something, what appeared to be a woman’s name. She injected a pain-killer, a shot of tetanus and a mild sedative. The ward boy asked if she wanted him to stay back. She told him that there was nothing that he could do and so he might as well go home and take some rest. He left, promising that he would come and pick her up the next day. She smiled to herself; it was already the next day. She locked the door after him. She was famished and remembered that she hadn’t had her dinner. She was about to go into the kitchen when the door bell rang. It was the ward boy. He handed her a set of keys. He had found it near the shrubs by the compound wall. It must be his keys, she presumed. It should have fallen off his pockets when he fell down. After he left she checked the bedroom, the sedative was doing its work. He was sleeping peacefully. She pulled a chair, next to the bed and sat down looking at his boyish face. The hard day took its toll. She dozed off. When she woke up, he was moaning and also shivering.
HE:
Over breakfast of toasted bread and omelet, she was advising him to go for a MRI to rule out any concussions and also X-ray to check if there were any hairline fractures to his tibia-the shin bone. Most of what she was going over his head, as he sat watching her. She was not the classical beauty but she was definitely attractive. She somehow reminded him of Julia Roberts. Especially the smile. He was wearing a shorts and a T-shirt which she had given him. Both were a size too small for him. His shirt and trousers were unusable with all the dried blood. His attackers had taken away all his belongings. Luckily the car keys had fallen off. Either they could not find it or they didn’t have the time to look for it. Surely they saw him locking the car and putting the keys into his pocket. He called his partner from her phone. His partner was anxious as he was not able to reach him since late last night. He was relieved that he had called now. He was really worried when he could not get through to find out how the meeting had gone He was bemused to hear of his experience. Yes, his father was stable but was still in ICU. He would arrange to pick him up in the next half an hour and also follow-up with the car dealer for repairs and send them right away. He made another call to his wife but didn’t tell het about the incident of the previous evening. What is the need to worry her unnecessarily?
SHE:
The ward boy came to pick her up. She informed him that she would be on leave that day.She told him that he could take the scooter if he wished as she wouldn’t be going out anywhere. She was visibly tired from lack of sleep and mentally drained by the happenings of the previous day. She would normally never take off, but this day was different. Besides she had to be with him till he was picked up by his friend’s car. She hoped that she would be able to sleep the entire day without being disturbed by any emergency. She looked at him as he ate his breakfast. He was grimacing as he chewed. The pain-killer was losing its effect. He appeared like a child with his boyish face. She realized she didn’t know anything about him. And he was not so forthcoming either. Must be the trauma caused by the incident, she thought. What is there to know anyway? He is just a patient and that was that.
HE:
The car came to pick him up. It was an awkward moment. He thanked her for all the care she gave. She just gave him her ‘Julia Roberts’ smile. He didn’t know what else to do. She reminded him about the scans and X-rays. He just nodded his head. Clumsily he got into the car. As the car started moving, he turned back to see her standing outside the gate looking at the disappearing car. Damn, he remembered that he hadn’t even asked her name nor had told her about him. Anyways, now that he knew where she lived he will come back one day this week. The people from the car dealer were already there. It wasn’t such a big issue after all. All it needed was tightening of some cables and voilá the car started without as much as a splutter. He drove home. Took a shower, without wetting the bandages. It was quite a feat. Changed to his clothes and went to meet his doctor. The doctor checked him physically and suggested a few tests to be done including the MRI that she had insisted. He also checked the suturing and observed they were professionally done. Nothing to worry, about it being infected. Anyways not to take any chances, he prescribed a course of antibiotics. The doctor advised him rest for a couple of days for his body to get over the trauma. He went home thinking how much of rest was possible especially with his partner having to deal with his father’s health. In the evening he got a call from his partner. His father had passed away. He immediately rushed to the hospital. He had never seen his partner so dejected and down. He always thought of his partner as someone strong. On seeing him he broke down uncontrollably. He instantly knew that he had to take things into his hands. He made all arrangements for the discharge and all the necessary paperwork. Since it was late evening, the funeral had to be the next day. Hopefully the old man’s sons and daughters would be able to reach by then. He had personally called each one of them to give them the news. It was a sordid business, telling someone, that their dear father was gone, however expected the end might have been. He then called the local crematorium and booked a time for the funeral. All the rituals had to be followed as the old man was a very orthodox man. So was the entire family for that matter. A few meetings were to be re-scheduled, some of them couldn’t be and he would have to take his partner’s place, as for the next 2 weeks he couldn’t be expected to go out on business trips. There were a lot of things to be taken care of. He had to do it for his partner’s sake.
The next four weeks went in a tizzy. He never thought that he was capable of doing things that he did in those 4 weeks. An extroverted businessman had emerged out of the cocoon of introversion. So much so he forgot about his condition. The MRI had revealed a small clot in his brain. Nothing to worry about; nothing that couldn’t be dissolved by drugs, his doctor had assured him. He remembered that he had not thanked his saviour on that fateful night. He went to her house, but it was locked. The neighbours were not of much help. They just knew she was working as a nurse and were without a clue about which hospital. Couple of tries later in the week too yielded the same result. A locked house. With no name to go by, it would be difficult to locate a person in a city milling with people. He felt guilty even though it was circumstances that prevented him from trying to meet her and to thank her. Then he remembered. He had called his partner from her phone. He got the number and called her, but it was switched off. He tried a few more times till an automated voice told him that the number was no longer in use. He decided he will take some effort to trace her. He made a list of hospitals in the area and decided to go and find if she worked in one of them. He just couldn’t to any hospital and enquire about the nurses in the payroll. So he would go to hospital and just watch the nurses to see if he could spot her. Morning and evening, he would go to the same hospital. He was not sure how many shifts were there, but he assumed there would be 2 shifts at least.
In the fifth hospital, the ward boy recognized him. He had no recollection of seeing him at all, though he had come to pick her up the next day, while he was having breakfast. The ward boy explained that it was he along with her, who had taken him into her house. No, he didn’t know what happened to her. A week back she had gone to her native place. Came back, resigned and left in a huff without even informing him. He didn’t know where to. His affection for her was evident in his voice. Obviously there were a lot of lives she had touched.
Time as they say is a great healer. The wounds were healed completely. The one on his forehead had left a discolouration of his skin . It now appeared like a purple egg. He slowly started forgetting about her. Sometimes looking into the mirror, only the purple scar on his forehead would remind him of that evening.
They celebrated the fifth anniversary of their company incorporation. Business grew. More so, his bondage with his partner. They became very busy and were traveling frequently, mostly to different places to meet their customers or for various symposia.
It was on one of those travels that he saw her again. His customer had come to pick him up from the hotel where he was staying. They were going to the client’s office. In one of the intersections, he saw a familiar figure, waiting to cross the road. She appeared to be holding a bag in her right hand. As they neared the signal, it turned red. The pedestrians started to cross the road. He watched as she stepped onto the pedestrian- crossing . On her right hand she was holding the hand of a girl of about three. When they came right in front of him, the little girl turned towards him. She was very fair. And on her forehead there was a birth-mark. A purple egg.
The Privileged Lot
They can bad-mouth whoever they want, but you make any statement about them and you are in big trouble. You might be hauled up and be required to present at their place of work and give out your explanation as to why you said what you said or made to offer an unconditional apology with probably an assurance that you would not engage in such foolish and dangerous activity ever again.
Most times they are seen fighting amongst themselves, even stopping work for which they are chosen. A lot of times they prefer to walk out of their work place or work without any consequences. A work on which a lot of money is invested on. But there are times when you will be witness to their solidarity for instance, when they have to decide their own pay rise (sometimes doubling them) and perks or when someone from outside the circle states the obvious about them which a large number of people for whom they are a supposed to be working would concur. No sire, they cannot take criticism. They quickly pass it on their enemies or tell you how better are they from their enemies. But, for them there are no permanent friends or enemies. Their best friends may turn their worst friends or vice versa every five years or less.
They promise that the singular purpose of their existence is the up-lifting of the downtrodden and other marginal people, but the people for whom they are purported to be working still remain downtrodden and even more marginalized.
They are above the law and cannot be arrested unless the head honcho at the place of their work gives the nod. A few of them are worth crores of wealth, while crores of the people whom they are supposed to protect do not have even the few essentials. How they could make so much wealth in short period of times baffles even the best of the investment advisors, considering that they start off with nothing to show off.
When they go about their jobs, the lesser privileged people are made to wait to let them pass or are made to take a circuitous route. The roads in their neighbourhood never gets flooded and don’t resemble craters on the moon where the commoners live.
They are insulated from rising prices and inflation.
They are insulated from insecurity.
They are mostly insulated from terrorist attacks as well.
They wouldn’t be bothered by petrol prices doubling in a couple of years especially with the convoy that escort them everywhere.Or if a cooking gas costs even Rs.1000 per cylinder.
They don’t have to bribe anybody to get their ration cards. In fact they don’t need a ration card.
They are not bothered if the country goes to dogs.
They don’t face power shortages except when they fail to be chosen again when their power gets cut. They will go to any extremes to prevent this from happening.
They don’t have a minimum educational qualification for their job and I have saved the best for last; they don’t have a retirement age.
They indeed are a privileged lot.
Picture courtesy: Internet
Fast and Furious
(WITH DUE APOLOGIES TO TEAM ANNA)
(Thanks to SHAIL)
Yes, there is a fast. To say it is just another fast would be blasphemy given all the hype provided bythe media and their seamless coverage. And yes there are a lot of furious people thronging the Ramlila Maidans, the Tihar jails, the India Gates, the Azad Maidans, the Juhu beaches, the Marina beaches, the Freedom Parks. People who are furious with the government, furious with the politicians, furious about corruption. Then there is also the government which is furious with Anna hazare, furious with the youngsters who are supporting the crusade against corruption, furious about the opposition parties which are trying to take credit for all that is happening. So now we have a lot of people who are furious with everybody else except themselves. Therein lies a tale.
As tens of thousands of people are supporting the movement against corruption, holding candle-light vigils, and fasting; there are also millions of people going on about their daily routine of giving or accepting bribes, driving through red lights at the traffic signals, throwing garbage onto the roads or into their neighbours house, parking their vehicles haphazardly on the roads without any concern for other road users, jump queues officially or unofficially. People go on doing all the above as if they are oblivious to what is happening in the country now. Somehow nothing seems to be wrong when WE indulge in these activities. The underlying factor always being ‘I am supreme’ and I don’t care about anyone else.
I am overwhelmed by what I see on TV, So many people out on the streets lending support to a cause that affects all of us. The famed Mumbai dabbawallahs have come out in support of this movement, breaking a 120 year old tradition. The commercial sex workers have come in support of the movement. Don’t the politicians feel any shame, for the beating their image has taken? I am filled with disgust as various politicians try to score brownie points on TV. They appear like children fighting, trying to shift the blame on the other party. If the bill is introduced because of all the pressures from within and without, I can never imagine the parliamentarians making it a law in a jiffy. None of the politician would want this. They will take whatever it takes to stall its entry or passing. The whole thing will be mired in technicalities. Even if the bill is passed, I am still skeptical of its successful implementation. After all is it not common knowledge that ‘Power corrupts and Absolute power corrupts absolutely’. Where I live, there is a law against smoking in public, a law against spitting in public, a law for compulsory wearing of helmets for 2 wheeler riders. Sadly there is no evidence for saying even one of them is being implemented. There is a song in Tamil and one of the lines goes like this ‘thirudane paarthu thiruntha vittal, thirutai ozhika mudiathu’, roughly translated it means unless the thief himself repents, it is not possible to stop theft. (The whole song is so apt for what is happening today.)Is it a wonder that I appear to be super cynical? I very strongly wish and pray that I am proved WRONG.
Jai Hind!
