Mukundan Tries to Find His Mother and Sister – Chapter-5

Mukundan dropped Lekha and Sumithra at their home. As he was leaving, he saw an old black and white photo that had been framed and was on a table. It was a photo taken when the election campaign was on and the participating candidate had drunk a glass of tea that Sumithra’s mother had made. It was a big event that had been covered in the local newspapers at that time. What was unique about that photo was that it also had Mukundan’s stepmother and sister in the frame. He took Sumithra’s permission to click a photo of it using his smartphone. He bid the mother and daughter “Good night” and walked to the auto-stand.

At the auto-stand, he had another surprise, the auto that he boarded, the driver turned around and said “Mukundan alle?”. Mukundan tried to place the elderly man in his sixties, wondering who it was! The man smiled and said “Eda Gangadharan maaman aana!” This man had worked in the school that Mukundan had studied as a handyman doing tasks like electrical repairs and minor carpentry work.

As the auto went through the village, Gangadharan spoke of all that had transpired in the intervening years. He said, “I went to Kannur last year for a wedding. Your mother and sister are there. They are running a small eatery near the Thodeekulam Shiva Temple. Go meet them.” Mukundan had tears in his eyes. The years of anguish came out. Gangadharan hugged him and said “Mukunda, mone, nee raksahapattu, poi ninde Ammaiyem, anniyathiyem, kondu va da!” {You saved yourself and have reached a secure place, go bring your mother and sister.”}

Mukundan reached his room in the lodge. He drank a glass of water and then went into the attached bathroom. He splashed some water onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror. The reflection looked back at him and said “Alfred has gone Mukundan, go save your stepmother and sister, you owe that good turn. Go.”

Mukundan broke into a smile and wiped his face with a towel. He switched the ceiling fan on and lay down on the cot. He fell asleep thinking of this stepmother and sister. Tomorrow he would leave for Kannur, at first light!

Sundara Mama – Joins his Sister Sharada in Heaven

I received the phone call late in the afternoon. My cousin was calling from Salem. His message was short and direct – “Appa poyita, chair la okandhirundha, Amma kanji aeduthutu pona, respond panalay, pulse, BP aedhuvum irukalai, doctor pathutu, uyir poghi 10 nimisham aachu sonanga.” “Appa is no more. He was sitting on the chair. Amma took kanji for him to drink. He did not respond. Doctor came and checked. No pulse or Bp. Doctor said he had died about 10 minutes ago.”

My mother had two elder brothers and one younger sister. MY chitthi passed away when I was yet a toddler and I do not have any memories of her barring for some old black and white photos where she holds me with pride and joy. I grew up in the care and affection of my elder maternal uncle Sundara Mama. He had left a village in Kerala to land in Calcutta and work as a house-help to his maternal uncle who was a Customs Officer. He decided to make his own living, did odd jobs, learnt typing and shorthand, went to evening college, he truly worked hard. He was fond of reading and an absolute whiz with Mathematics. He joined Chemplast as a young man and rose to a pretty senior position by the time he left.

I owe my love for reading, cricket, and collecting stamps to him. He was also a keen listener of Carnatic music and had a huge collection of audio cassettes. Growing up, I was scared of him too because he demanded perfection and total commitment to one’s deeds. Getting the signature on the report card was what I hated the most as invariably my scores in Maths and Science were horrible. In the absence of my father, whose only contribution to my life to a large level was my birth and nothing beyond it; it was my mamas – Sundareswaran and Raman who supported my mother and I. I would often wonder, where would have I ended up, if I did not have two such beautiful people who took such good care of us, helped provide a good education, food, shelter, clothing, love and affection, and guidance in the critical years of childhood!

As the wheel of time, played its tricks, we all had to separate, mama had his own family. They joined together after a separation of almost two decades. Amma and I joined Appa, who by some weird twist of fate felt he could make things work again.

I have so many memories of Sundara Mama, traveling down South with Akka and Amma to visit Tirupati and Chennai, visiting our ancestral temple in Thiruvilvamala, visiting Madras, VGP Golden Beach, the family dosa, watching a movie at Devi theatre, drinking Bovonto and rose milk, traveling to Pichavaram, a lot of memories of Madras are inter-linked with him. Coming down to Madras to buy jewels at GRT for Akka’s wedding, purchasing silk sarees, traveling to Kanchipuram, meeting Mahaperiyavaa, these are all moments that are stuck firmly in my mind.

In Calcutta, our visits to the Boi Mela – Book Fair, finding second-hand books from pavement shops and old book shops in Mirza Ghalib Street, getting up early to watch the World Cup that happened in New Zealand. Dissecting and analyzing team selections in cricket and the fierce rivalry between East Bengal and Mohun Bagan, the love for masala peanuts, jhaal murri, and mishti doi. So much of my present is inter-linked to his benevolence.

It took me a long time to get over the sorrow of losing Amma. But this passing away of Sundara Mama will sting deeply in more ways than one. As age catches up with the elders in the family, my worry increases too, and I keep everyone in my prayers. His time had come, he left in the most painless way possible.

Om Shanthi mama.

Say hello to Amma, when you meet her in heaven.

Status Update

I sought pardon,

For my sins,

In lives gone by,

And this existence.

I found refuge,

In temples, mosques,

Monasteries and churches.

In mountains and caves,

In rainforests in the heart of darkness.

Rituals and ceremonies,

To appease the higher power,

Whichever name you choose to ascribe.

The tests and struggles that everyone faces!

Either makes them stronger or breaks them down.

Every single time when I hit trough bottom.

I fought, for I believed, I had a chance.

An obligation to survive, because I was accountable to my mother.

To make her world and life as happy as possible.

Today, as I observe her in a drug-induced stupor.

We fight ailments known and unknown.

I am powerless to help her,

All I can do is to take her to hospitals.

Follow medication and diets as prescribed.

Still there is no clear solution.

No proper answers, the battle,

For a good night’s sleep,

Was lost long ago!

I keep my eyes shut tight.

But the ears remain steady,

Waiting for the slightest moan or cry.

I don’t know what I have turned into.

A robot who mechanically,

Continues to go about his chores.

My employers have been patient.

Helping in anyway possible.

Friends, a handful, call or message.

Fragments of a family scattered around the world.

A few good souls still keep in touch.

What lies next? I don’t know,

The charade of positivity,

Of hope and good things,

All remain mere masks.

I hope I find answers.

I hope things change, for the better.

I have just one reason left,

To continue this struggle.

As that reason too, disintegrates,

Bit-by-bit, cell-by-cell.

The tunnel of darkness,

Seems to beckon me.

If tomorrow comes.

We shall meet again.

Anger Management

 

My mother does not realize,

That pleasing 1001 gods,

Is not going to help,

Her BP or sugar,

Every single time there is a festive occasion,

Fat-laden foods in the name of prasadam,

I am not a big fan of all this,

On top of that fasting,

Rituals, decorations, and what not??

Which God demanded all this?

So many years of doing these rituals,

To what effect? To what joy??

Falling ill, making me worry to no end.

Not heeding to my warnings,

And all to what end,

Like one idiot I have to rush,

Hunting for medicines, looking for a specialist.

I am tired, I am sick and tired,

Of this repeated loop,

That I am stuck in.

How easy it would be,

To run away from all this.

A cross and a burden,

That is testing my patience,

Where is this God?

Who plays joke after joke after joke on me!

Where is He/She/Power/Energy/Light??

What blasted adjective should I use,

To describe this all powerful,

Omni-potent, all-knowing energy,

That seems to forever laugh at my antics,

As I falter again and again,

In trying to create some semblance,

Of sanity in this great gift called ‘Life’!

How long does one keep travelling,

In this tunnel, hoping to get,

One glimpse of light,

That seems to be at the next bend?

How long should I continue??

To be weighed down,

Morally, physically and mentally,

Because of decisions taken by others,

Which have ruined my dreams beyond repair!

 Depression, anger, blindness,

What word does one use,

What phrase does one create,

To represent this massive lie,

That I am being forced to lead??

I shall never find redemption.

This is the truth,

Till the end arrives,

Like a welcome release,

Continue to mock me,

Continue to blackmail me,

Continue to destroy my life.

Thank you dear family, relatives and well-wishers.

Thank you!!!

 

On the Needle’s Edge

Where is the time,
To sing, to dance, to be joyful,
And spend merry moments,
And magical moments with friends?

My life is now defined,
By a single needle’s edge,
18 units of insulin in the morning,
And 12 units of the fluid at night.

Life revolves around medication.
You are forever in a state of worry,
Rushing from task to task,
Worried about delayed trains.

Your only goal in life,
Becomes reporting to work on time,
Getting work done, and returning,
To put the injection as early as possible.

No time for social engagement,
No time for friends,
No time for merriment,
No time for myself.

Just a constant state of chaos,
Going through life,
Like the aimless stream,
That dies in the woods,
Before it reaches the sea!

Sleep

There she lies on the bed,
The gentle rhythmic,
Breathing indicates that she’s fine.
I wonder, when was the last time,
That I slept without nightmares,
That keep plaguing me?

At times, there’s a sustained pause.
She mutters incoherently,
In the drug-induced sleep.
I wake up and sit,
For a while,
And then again lie down.
Nothing lasts forever!
Good or bad – we move on!

Blessed are those,
Who can fall asleep,
Without a pill,
Without a worry,
Without nightmares plaguing them.
Another sunrise, another battle,
In this city of fire,
In the hope of a better tomorrow,
We forge on….

Thoughts on Mother’s Day

My timeline on Facebook is flooded with sentimental posts, pictures and quotes all celebrating motherhood. How does one define one’s relationship with one’s biological mother, or the mother who adopts us, or teachers who become mothers and guide us? It is very difficult to define this bond.

When a lady bears you in her womb, goes through hell to deliver you bearing a whole lot of pain; a part of her dies to bring you into this world. That umbilical cord that binds you to your mother is a special bond! In times gone by when adventures on the high seas and travelling by ship was the only way to discover new lands, umbilical cords were coveted among sailors as a lucky charm to keep them safe. Sailors believed that the cord would keep them safe, the cord was fashioned into a charm or amulet and worn by sailors!

There are some close people whom I know who share an angry relationship with their respective mothers, it is out of distrust and misunderstandings that snowballed into a rift boosted by the egos of the parties involved! I have had the task of setting alight the funeral pyres of distant cousins and family friends as the son/daughter in question was stuck abroad and could not make it to India in time for the last rites. I have had people breaking down to me over Skype and on the phone; cursing the very moment they chose to go abroad! I had a friend who said, “Mahesh amma oda pavizha-kallu padicha mookuthi irukkum da, adha mattum yaenakki anuppi vei da! I want it to keep reminding me that I let her down!” Incidents like these are many! There was the best friend of a time gone by who completely ended up a “penn-koandhan” toeing every line his wife said and ditched his mother in an old-age home; she died broken-hearted! The idiot just came and completed the last rites; when he lit her pyre that’s when he broke down completely! “Matchaan, thappu panitaen da, paeriya thappu panitaen, Meena pinnadi sithi ipidi vitutatenae yaen Amma va! Paava manippaey illai da yaenakku!”

It becomes a worry for me if my mother fails to answer the phone! Morning once I reach office, I call and confirm she is fine, evening once I step out of office I call her again. There have been times when she would be in a drug-induced sleep and would not answer the call, I would worry a hundred different things and keep calling every ten minutes till she would reply.

I have let go of many opportunities for her. There have been numerous wedding proposals that have come through! Without batting an eye-lid the girl’s parents would ask – “Amma va vittu thanni kuduthanam varanam thambi!” I would say – “Nadakaratha sollungo, ponnu ku vaera maapalai a paarungo saar!” Friendships that could have blossomed into something more concrete and and an actual love story; got cut short! Opportunities to go abroad have been sacrificed!

When an entire clan stood against us, asking us to give one more chance at redemption (after umpteen earlier chances), I firmly put my foot down and was in a way black-listed by a whole group of “well-meaning relatives”. We battle, every day, within and without, illnesses, medicines, food, cooking, choice of fruits to be offered to the Lord for prayers!

We battle every day with each other and others.. life goes on!

One wonders if it was all worth it??

All I want to tell you readers out there is – “Some battles are worth it and some battles are not worth it!” Don’t end up doing something that you will regret all your life. One day you will have to set your closest ones free! So cherish this moment with them!

Tomorrow may not come….

 

F for Father, Where art thou?

As many of my readers know, I share a deep, unexplained feeling of hatred for my father. I have written enough on how he ruined our lives (my mother’s, my sister’s and mine). I am not going to write again about all those troubled years. This post is a reflection on what drove him to what he turned into.

A young boy in a distant village in Kerala, the first child in a family of five siblings, finishes his Class X and lands in a slightly larger village and joins a restaurant as a server. He sends money the money that he earns to his parents and then he sees an advert in the newspaper and goes to a naval recruitment fair. He clears all exams and starts his journey. Even today, when at times, I am messed up in my head and yearn for that bit of paternal affection, I take out an album, it has my father in his naval uniform with his medals. How smart and dashing he looked, I am sure many a maiden’s heart would have fluttered. He had the looks of a dashing Errol Flynn. By a weird twist of fate, his scheming parents marry him away to a young girl who studied just till Class VIII. A marriage which the  old man (my paternal granddad) thought would help his other children. Life all those eons ago would have been strange, a young couple, a cramped house, scheming in-laws, jealousy, anger, madness! It was a match made in hell.

With many years of service in the Navy and a fair bit that’s classified, somewhere my father lost it and took to the bottle. It was a life-long struggle that eventually ruined him to not even a shadow of his strengths. My father would work in many leading firms across India and even in the Middle East. A fair bit of his life in Mumbai and in Sharjah is shrouded in mystery. He would never tell us anything. Gifts, once in a while, some money wired through, a greeting card with a message would land up. When we made one final attempt at reconciliation, we knew it was doomed, but we still tried. It did not work!

I have gone on and on about him failing in his duties, as one grows up, I wonder, have I failed him too? Deep reflections within are not going to give me answers. I have forgiven him a bit for all that he has done to us. It is my destiny to remain like this and his to remain the way he is! At some point this circle will end and then I can set him free once and for all. Till then, there is no peace for any of us! That inkling of dread, that bit of fear, that phone call confirming my worst fears may come in any time. Then I would have to claim him and cremate him. The same holds true for my mother as well. With the dreaded curse, which I have of visions into the future that I can’t control, I know both their times are nearing and I have to mentally prepare myself for setting them free.

Perhaps, at least in another dimension of time; let them stay happy!

Dear Uncle Robbie

Dear Uncle Robbie,
You are no longer,
With us in person,
But you shall always,
Remain in our hearts,
In our minds and thoughts.

Be it a man dressing up,
As a middle-aged lady,
Trying to save his marriage,
From falling apart.

An English teacher inspiring,
A room full of students.
Inspiring a generation of kids,
To puruse Literature.

The radio jockey in Vietnam,
Cheering up soldiers,
With witty one-liners,
Ruffling up feathers,
And raising laughter.

So many roles,
So many characters,
So many smiles,
All reduced to tears!

Wherever you are now,
I am sure you are,
Safer and happier,
And are no longer,
A tormented soul.

Dear Uncle Robbie,
Our prayers are there,
In support and grace,
For your family and friends.

Finally you have been set FREE!
Take care my captain,
For I know,
Perhaps this too is a role,
That you are playing out.
Oh Captain! My dearest Captain!

Lines from “Dead Poets Society’
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

“No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.”

“We’re not laughing at you – we’re laughing near you.”

“There’s a time for daring and there’s a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.”

A genius who was too talented, a manic energy that radiated from him, a life full of worries and battles with himself, his inner demons and alcohol. Finally the mind caved in and he chose to end his life. Wherever he is I hope he has found solace. R.I.P. Robin Williams!