Monday, February 25, 2013

A GENTLE KNOCK ON THE DOOR



He was standing there in the darkness, underneath a mango-tree where it was easy to stand undetected. All others in the household were busy crisscrossing through young women laughing away for no reason. He too was supposed to crisscross but he felt let down as he didn’t have a displayable job. In such kind of jobs, one has a cabin, a dedicated toilet and conveyance facilities. He had none of these. Worse, he had to wear a khakhi uniform while working which he thought, made him a lesser plebian. He refused to consider him as a commoner as he had come up entirely on his own, against all odds. Not a rag-to-riches story this, by any standards. He was all hard-work, perseverance and will-power.

He had to discontinue his studies at the school-final level to carry the family, a big one indeed,when the bread-winner, his father, suddenly disappeared behind the curtain. He was forced to carry the baton and run. He did just that missing all the flowers and greenery of life.  The sisters were settled, the brothers earned their degrees and the house got a face-lift. It was his turn then and he got married to a girl, city-bred , well educated  and waiting for an assignment, without falling in love. It didn't matter as he had a lot of concern for her. He was ready to go an extra mile always. The neighbours found it a wee-bit amusing when the man applied special-purpose hair-oil to his wife’s curls sitting at their doorsteps. He had made it all by himself, after painstakingly collecting brahmi, kayyonni (eclipta alba) and kattaarvaazha (aloe vera) by hand.

kavitha balakrishnan - they lost on a rainy day -water colour -2007

Was it love or attachment? In love, one doesn't expect anything in return. One keeps on giving. In his case, he might have expected equal concern from her, to treat him as her child, perhaps.  As a matter of fact, man always seeks his mother in his wife. She failed to understand this aspect. She had got a displayable job which she always wanted and life went on. He felt sidelined as she focused on her career and didn't have much time to spare. The children on whom he had drawn grandiose designs aligned with their mother. Finally the mistreatment from the in-laws, to add fuel to fire.

He fumed in the darkness, underneath the mango-tree.

He could have become an addict to booze. Creating a scene or two on a daily basis at home / outside so that it would act as a leveler of sorts.It was not to be. He became more attentive in his job and spent quality time in trade-union activities. He turned out to be its crisis manager. It was during this phase that I had the chance to get to know him. I was going through hell and he talked to me in a crowded bus stand.  He advised me to take everything in my stride. It was a great solace.

I visited him more often in his home and found him carefully investing money in real-estate. He sounded a bit apologetic. He said it was important for him to provide for his children’s education. He was contemplating even the marriage of his daughter who was just studying at high-school. Begging for alms (before his wife) was out of question.

It was my turn and I advised him to take it easy. Money was important but getting attached to it would create more problems than it could solve.

He smiled. Perhaps he might have had an inkling of what was in store. One could buy niceties and good behavior too, with money.

The news I heard about him several years later was awfully bad. He was under treatment for some strange disease which restricted his movement. The legs were getting weakened day by day.
Climbing the stairs was ruled out. He could manage to walk, only with the help of crutches.He tried to avoid them and never attached a side-car to his scooter. Commuting to work was getting increasingly difficult. Still he didn't give up.

Self-made people suffer from bad ego.  
                                  
He tried his level best to get out of his impairment. Allopathy was the first choice and the doctors expressed their helplessness, but he would never accept it. He tried all other systems of medicines and even magical remedies. In the mean-time he got admitted into the District Ayurvedic Hospital and I went there to meet him.  He was all alone in his room. No by-standers. I wanted to ask about his wife and children, but I didn't.

kavitha balakrishnan

I helped him have a shave and then, a much needed shower in warm, medicated water. Then I put him on the wheel chair and took him out. While negotiating a ramp, I was quite clumsy handling the contraption and I lost control for a split second. To my surprise, he yelled for his wife. Nobody else came to his mind at the time of distress. The man was still attached to his wife very much.

Ayurveda too couldn't prop him up. He was confined to the wheelchair making him desperately at the mercy of others for almost everything. In my less frequent visits, I advised him to accept it.

But he couldn't.
His hard-earned, thoughtfully invested money didn't help either.

He tried a shortcut instead. The critical path method which found him in the general ward of Medical College Hospital the next morning. Taking the trouble of ferrying him to hospital, his son, a full-fledged techie by now, chided his father in anger. One should be successful in doing the job, the son felt, otherwise one should not make a try.

I met him again. The after-effect of the failed suicide attempt was taking its toll. His condition had worsened.No more advice was required, I knew. He was to be conditioned for the meeting. The ultimate one.

kavitha balakrishnan

I asked him to be bold.  No point in wallowing in self-pity. No point in asking why did it have to be you.  The cause and effect theory is not applicable here. Take it as such. Show your will-power once again.
It is absolutely foolish to get hurt by others’ indifference. If your close ones don’t correct their ways, they will be forced to do so in the long run. Taking lessons with their chin on the ground! You don’t have to do any thought-policing.

See the case of Vaikkom Muhammed Basheer. He was physically in a very bad shape at his twilight years. Pain, breathlessness ….couldn‘t even lye on bed! Still he kept a cheerful humility in his words and actions. Never complained.And wished for everyone’s well-being.

One’s transparency and attitude do matter, especially at the fag-end of one’s life.

A person must be able to welcome Death as a long-lost friend.
Waiting for the gentle knock on the door, all alone.
Welcoming him, all alone.
Asking him to sit beside you and holding his hands gently.

I didn't hear anything from the man for sometime. In fact I didn't hear anything from him ever-after.

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