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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
**********