Shivam Diaries

Author: shivam

  • Perumal's head ache

    ” பெருமாள், அப்பிடி ஆனந்தமா, அமோகமா பள்ளி கொண்டிருக்கார். பால் கடலிலே, அனந்த சயனர். காலை பிரஸ் பண்ணிக்கிண்டு இருக்காள் ஒரு பத்னி, தலையை பிரஸ் பண்ணிக்கிண்டு இனி ஒரு பத்னி”
    ” குரவே, பெருமாளுக்கு பாவம் கால் வலி, தலை வலி போல் இருக்கு ”
    “பதினான்கு வரிடம் காட்டிலே ‘லோ,லோ’ என்று நடந்தால் கால் வலிக்காதா , மடசாம்ப்ரணி?”
    “பத்தினியும் கூட, ‘லோ,லோ’ என்று நடக்கலயா? . அந்த அம்மாளுக்கும் கால் வலிக்குமே, குருவே ! அது சரி, பெருமாளுக்கு தலை ஏன் வலிக்கின்றது ?”
    “உன்னை மாதிரி ஒரு மடசாம்ப்ராணிக்கு ஜீவன் தந்துவிட்டோமே என்ற வருத்தத்தினால் தான் ”
    Hyderabad,
    Dec, 25, 2012

  • Too many claims

     
    ” Doctor Mohan, I am in a padma vyooham now. Come immediately and save me, please”
    ” I’m busy enjoying an ice cream cone with my girl friend. What happened Doctor ?”
    ” I sliced a skull. Don’t know how to seal it .”
    “So, it is your patient in the padmavyooham, not you. Call nurse Mary”
    “She doesn’t want to go near the patient. It seems the guy on the table is her husband”
    “Call Juliet, then.”
    ” She too claims that the patient is her husband. ‘the devil deserves a doctor like you’, she chides me.
    ” I’ll be there in another 5 minutes, Dr. We should save him, somehow. See in the meantime that no more woman come out, claiming the patient.  With the hospital’s limited resources, we have no money to settle  many claims. Oh, my ice cream has melted and slipped.”
    “Hope your girl friend also has slipped away”.
    “You are right, doctor. She is not here. But how did you know that?”
    ” She is here claiming that the patient is her husband”
     
    Hyderabad
    Dec 22, 2012

  • A favour earned

    “Patti ( grand ma), respecting your age and good deeds, I have already allowed you ten minutes extension and if you don’t follow me instantly, I will have to throw my rope bundle and pull you by neck”.  The lord of death issued the final warning.
    “Another 5 minutes, please ” the good old lady pleaded, “let me complete the task on hand”
    “What noble cause this worthy woman is anxious to complete !” wondered Dharma Raja and unable to contain his anxiety, peeped through the window.
    Patti, the grand ma, was polishing her nails !
    “At 95, this woman sits on the floor, stretching her limbs, bends her body and prunes and polishes her nail !” He could not contain his surprise.
    Yes, you guessed right. He gave her 20 minutes.
     
    Hyderbad,
    Dec 19, 2012

  • Who needs the medical check up?

    “A caring husband feared that his wife was becoming deaf and wanted to try whether she was pretending or her hearing capacity was really dwindling. Like any other husband, he was not bold enough to tell her that she had a problem and therefore consulted a reliable friend . Like any other reliable friends, his friend too suggested an easy solution:
    “Here’s what you do,” he suggested, “stand about 40 feet away from her, and in a normal conversational speaking tone see if she hears you. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response.”
    That evening, when the wife was in the kitchen cooking dinner, the caring husband standing about 40 ft away asked in his normal tone , ” what is my sweet wife preparing for dinner?”.
    No response.
    So the husband moved closer to the kitchen, about 30 feet from his wife and repeated, “what is my sweet wife preparing for dinner?”.
    Still no response.
    Next, he moved into the dining room where he was about 20 feet away from his wife and asked the same question.
    Again he got no response. so he walked up to the kitchen door, about 10 feet away and repeated the question. Again there is no response.
    Then, he walked right up behind her. “You deaf woman. I have been repeated asking what’s for dinner. Have you heard or not ?”
    The wife didn’t loose her temper. “ FIFTH time I am saying, masaal dosai. You should get not only your ears but eyes too checked, as you are seeing me making dosai. And may I know since when did I become a sweet wife for you?”
    The caring husband’s suspicion got cleared and he flashed a sweet smile. Next morning, he told his reliable friend, ” take me to an eye specialist first and then to a ENT doctor.

  • The peepal tree shelters crows and not mosquitoes.

    pipal tree
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Looking down can be rewarding, at times, as I’m now endowed with. From the balcony of the eighth floor apartment of my nephew Suresh, I have a panoramic view of the crown of a papal tree, down below. Amazing is its panoramic expanse ! What a display of abundance, artistically, evenly and elegantly spread greenery, covering a wide area, moving the head in rhythm, dancing to the tune of the wind, providing shelter to hundreds of birds and cool breeze to those below!
    ‘Moolatho Brahma roopaaya,
    Madhyatho Vishnu roopinae,
    Agrahta Shivaroopaaya,
    Vriksharajaaya thae namha”
    ” മൂലതോ ബ്രഹ്മ രൂപായ,
    മധ്യതോ വിഷ്ണു രൂപിണെ ,
    അഗ്രത ശിവ രൂപായ.
    വൃക്ഷ രാജായ തെ നമ ”
    I pray, closing my eyes, recollecting the hymn displayed near a similar huge tree in the Sreekanteswaram Temple premises, which I visited earlier.
    Now we talk about the necessity of saving the Nature; our elders worshiped her!. Circumambulated them, in reverence, performed their wedding by tying yellow and saffron threads. How thoughtful!.
    And there are also, mosquitoes, those insignificant insects, surprisingly flying so high, invading therough the narrow openings and humming to annoy me, close to my ears as if  I am a deaf . How efficiently they search my blood vessels, stealthily suck my blood and fly of proclaiming their victory.
    The other day, I had been to a similar high-apartment and was pleased to see a harsh-voiced, dark skinned crow, approaching the widow- sill to collect the snacks served affectionately by the house lady, The moment she was sure of the feed, the bird invited her friends and relatives and in group, enjoyed every piece of the food made available.
    I remembered my father anxiously awaiting, on the terrace of our house, holding a ball of rice, sanctified by Vedic hymns, inviting the crows, shouting, ‘ka,ka’ and we, children, behind him, clapping hands and shouting, ‘ka ka’ still louder. The contentment on my father’s face, the moment a crow responds to his shout and pricks with its beak, the white ball of rice, placed on the parapet of the wall, after cleaning the area with water meticulously. If the crow had faced the side where the Sun rises, while collecting the food, my father’s eyes opens up, face brightens with a benign smile. Our father believed that the crow was none other than his forebears in disguise, from another world. What a crazy man, we didn’t say then.
    No wonder why the  majestic papal tree shelters crows and not mosquitoes.

  • Another kappi story

    “You call this kappi?”
    “What happened ?”
    “No sugar, no milk”
    ”Our doctor has prohibited sugar for you, I follow his advice”
    ” But why no milk?”
    ”Milk contains sugar; I follow our doctor’s advice”
    ” But no trace of kaapi?”
    ”kappi will put you to sleep and this is not the time for you to sleep”
    “And you follow your doctor’s advice?”
    “No, my mother’s in this particular case”
    ”Shall I now come to the point ? The liquid which you have served me, is not kappy. To put it more accurately, it is nothing but once- hot- now -cooled, colorless, odorless, tasteless, insipid,irritating, formless something like you. And if you both have become like this on your doctor’s advice, hell with your doctor. I don’t mind if it pushes me towards heaven by drinking a cup of really good, hot coffee.”
    “I am getting a cup of hot, freshly prepared kappi, in a jiff. One cup of kappi can do no harm”
    “Only kappi?”
    ”Only kappi. It is too late for me to revert to my earlier state.”
    ”No need; I love you in the present state, Ammalu.”
    ” In my ‘cooled, colorless, odorless, tasteless, insipid,irritating, formless state?”
    ” You give weight to the blabs of an addict ? I don’t want kappi. in fact, I dislike kappi . Get me a tumbler of cool water from the fridge.”
    ”Cool water alone ?”
    “Oh, I like that. You are reverting to your old state, Ammalu ”
    Hyderabad,
    Jan 19, 2013

  • " I will, but not after I go to bed "

    Since long I didn’t hear from a close friend of mine and so, I called him.
    ” Anna, hope things are fine at your end. No call since long. ”
    ” Your Manni doesn’t allow me to go near the phone, leave away, using it.”
    “Oh, she is not at home now ?”
    ”She has gone to the temple. I wish she stays there, ever. My God, she is back; I am keeping the phone down”
    “Hold on for a minute more please and hand over the phone to Manni”
    “Manni,why this new punishment for my Anna?”
    “You won’t ask this question, had you known what he did.”
    “Tell me, please”
    “He speaks to his girl friend, for an hour every night, after I go to bed”
    ” I am not surprised, having known him, from his young days. But how did you come to know that ?”
    “I caught him red handed through the wireless parallel, I had hidden under my pillow”
    Now her worthy husband came on the line.
    “Anna, who is that lucky girl?”
    “Our Pitcu patti. I was discussing with her Ramayanam and Gita ”
    Now the phone changed hands.
    “Lie. I have recorded their conversation”
    ” You had a recorder too under your pillow, manni?”
    ‘Modern techniques come handy to catch such shameless criminals” .
    ” Good. what was the response from the other side, Manni?”
    “Surprisingly, no response”
    “Not a surprise for me as, in fact, there was none at the other end”
    ‘What do you mean ?”
    “There was none on the other end, I assure you. Anna was just playing a trick, to make you envy him and draw you closer to him. All the husbands do that when they grow old !”
    ” Oh, my God ! Which other husband will play such a nasty trick ?”
    “I did.”
    ”You did ? How did the mild-mannered Ammalu handle that?”
    ”She is mild-mannered indeed; She threw me out along with my baggage.”
    “You are on the street now? Come here, I will  talk to Ammalu.”
    “I have reached Kasi. Send my Anna too, Let his crime be washed in the holy waters”
    “Crime, what crime did he commit? Speaking to air is a crime? And how dare you to ask me to send him to Kasi ? I can’t live without him for a moment.”
    “Then allow him to use the phone. ”
    ”I will, but not after I go to bed”
     
    Hyderabad,
    Jan 14, 2013

  • An observation lapse

    “Observe your body”- I was giving my co-traveler in the Chennai mail, an unsolicited advice, a practice which I have been following from the day I became eligible for concessional travel in Indian Railways.
    ”What is there to observe?” he protested as I expected and added sarcasm -smeared commentary, “I know about my body, from head to toe and in fact, that is the first thing I learned when I started learning!”
    “How intelligently he talks!” His wife, sitting close to him, opposite to my seat, admired. Husbands are lucky, some at least.
    Their two children, Appu and Ammu, probably between 8 and 12, turned their attention towards their mother, perhaps wondering why that unusual gesture to dad, from their mom. The granny, who was reading a Tamil magazine, lifted her head and looked surprisingly at her daughter in law. Mothers know their daughters better than you and me.
    As far as intelligence is considered, I never admit my IQ was ever low, even before I became a ‘senior citizen’ and  when I crossed that barrier, I realized that my intelligence was in full bloom, competing with  my belly. Therefore, I stuck to my message, as I do invariably, when my statements are challenged.
    “We all, generally, look at our body and not observe it. It pays enormously, if We  take the trouble of ‘observing’ our body and look for any abnormal growth, bend of fingers, swelling, rashes, itches, dots,  moles, dents and so on. ”
    Assertive words always carry weight. Those near my seat, except the kids and the elderly lady, started self search keenly, looking for any growth, bend etc, since they left their house, an hour or two before.
    Looking authoritatively at the audience, I continued, “is there any variation in the shape of your eyes, lips? Please hear carefully: If there is a tumor in the brain, there could be a slight deviation in your eyes and for a woman who put dots on her forehead; she might miss the center of the forehead. That is a warning not to be neglected.”
    Assertive words always carry weight, I repeat. You may wonder why I should do that. Anyway, the old lady, kept aside her book, turned towards her daughter in law, raising her eyebrows which made the eye glass frame too to rise and queried in a hurry,
    “In which bag did you, the queen of carelessness, insert my hand-mirror?”
    “Ask your son, ma,” the queen responded calmly, “who else has the habit of meddling with others bags?”
    I had no time to waste on such petty issues.
    “Any new development should be looked into and consultation done with a physician”, I paused for a minute to enjoy a chew from my betel-leaf casket and continued, ” are your steps steady? Is your waste-discharge proper? Does your digestive system crave for more food and too often and does your bladder hurry to expel the fluid-stock? If you have any of these symptoms, better consult a doctor.”
    My co-passengers were now convinced that my words deserved better attention.
    “The front-center portion of your body has a tendency to show its importance, by bulging, if you continue to intake starchy food and don’t burn the extra calories, by physical exercise.  Once the belly bloats, it doesn’t shrink like a balloon, which has only air to lose “.
    Now, the children who were ignoring me for some time, laughed.
    “How funny if the belly bursts like a balloon?” commented Ammu. “Can I give you a punch and see how it bursts, thatha? ” Appu approached me with a folded fist. Her parents and the granny, who was still searching for the hand mirror, enjoyed the children’s prank. I continued:
    “Keep a watch for similar abnormalities in other members of your family too. And also note their behavioral changes. If your kitchen reverberates too often with the noise of the vessels dropped by your wife, it may be a sign of protest at your receiving too many calls from your woman assistant or to draw your attention to your stinginess in pruning her shopping list”.
    The young lady nodded her head in approval, the old one stared at me and the husband laughed ‘ha,ha’ but stopped suddenly when his wife sternly looked at him. I turned to her as she appeared to be in a mood to hear more.
    ” If your husband yells, searching for his misplaced eye-glasses or mobile phone and that too often, better borrow a blood pressure apparatus or inquire from his colleagues, whether his boss quarrels with his wife too often. When your son or daughter grows up, if they condemn our traditional ways as outdated, waste and worthless,  too loudly, be prepared to face a cyclonic storm soon at home; your offspring has chosen the life partner from a different caste or religion.. For every action, there is a cause, whether there is a cure or not”.
    Now the elders became more attentive, while the children continued to play.” I can’t imagine Ramu, standing before me holding the hand of a girl with no ‘pottu’ on her forehead but holding the framed picture of Yesu ( Jesus Christ), her eyes searching an ideal place on the wall to install the picture in her hand.” lamented the young lady. Suddenly, she gazed at the old woman and raising her voice to a limited level, being aware that she was not at her kitchen said, “your son almost did something like that, before our wedding and if you are under the impression that I am unaware of his adventure, you are wrong, Amma.” The old lady neglected the rebuke, her son tried to laugh ‘ha,ha’ but instantly stopped fearing  the stern look of his wife. The children were least concerned.
    “And observe what is happening in your neighborhood, society, town, state, country and beyond that. Any tremor anywhere in the world could shake your bed.” I warned.
    “And throw you out,” commented a youngster, who intruded from the next bay. “Should we not observe the other planets too, uncle?” he questioned me with a smile, sarcasm writ large on his face.
    ” There you are, young man!” cleverly blotting out my anger to slap him, I said, ” yes we should; that was why your dad, carrying a bunch of horoscopes approached an astrologer, to find out whether any planet would throw you and the girl you are  about to marry, out of the bed you would  share with her.”
    “Oh, are you an astrologer too, uncle?” The young blood could not control its surge, ‘how did you know that my dad went to consult an astrologer?”
    Now I could afford to ignore him.
    “The most difficult task is to keep your mind under constant observation.” I continued.
    “Controlling the entry of unwanted guests into your big house is much easier than regulating the invasion of unwanted, unhealthy, unproductive thoughts into your mind.”
    “The thoughts about my girl friend can’t be unwanted as I welcome those, can’t be unhealthy as my health improves by those and can’t be unproductive as my happiness improves when I think about those.” quipped the youngster, obviously angry at my not acknowledging his accepting me.
    ” I welcome that statement and appreciate your courage, though–” I paused.
    “Though?” inquired the youngster.
    “Wonder why you didn’t include the horoscope of that girl friend, in the bunch carried by your dad”
    “Uncle you are simply great!” The youngster could not contain his esteem for me. He came closer to me and hugged.
    That bonhomie didn’t last long.
    “Thatha, one stone is missing from your kadukkan, ear-top!” remarked Appu, pointing his finger towards my left ear.
    “Uncle failed to observe that” commented the youngster from the next bay.
    “Foolish young man!” I raised my voice and challenged him.” My eyes can’t see my eyes, my eyes can’t see my ears, my eyes, though most prominent in my face, can’t see my face. Can your eyes see your eyes, ears and face? Why that lapse in the creation? Why did not the creator make a provision to turn our head one full round, by 360 degrees?  Ravana had ten heads; those could sprout again if sliced but even one head would not turn around. Why, why?”. Words were outpouring like arrows and the youngster from the next bay raised his eyebrow perhaps, wondering how the 360 degree turn of the neck was related to the drop of a stone from my kadukkan.
    My Creator obviously didn’t appreciate my charge.
    “Thatha, your shirt buttons are unaligned with the loops!” The Creator made Appu to point out another lapse in my observation.
    ”This hand mirror might help you to realign the buttons.” the old lady, who had successfully retrieved the mirror from her own hand bag, extended it, smiling through the corner of her mouth.
    “The shirt buttons are not at uncle’s back and his eyes can certainly observe them, without turning his neck 360 degrees,” commented the daughter in law.
    ”How intelligently you talk!” her husband returned the compliment.
    My face shrunk. Appu was sad to see that. His face too shrunk.
    ” Don’t worry thatha.” Ammu consoled and sat close to me. “I will realign the buttons.”  She did that when I hugged her close to my chest.
    ——
     

  • What a difference !

     

    • Looking down can be rewarding, at times, as I’m now endowed with. From the balcony of the eighth floor apartment of my nephew Suresh, I have a panoramic view of the crown of a banyan tree, in the campus and I am amazed at its vastness! What a display of abundance, artistically, evenly and elegantly spread greenery, covering a wide area, moving the head in rhythm, dancing to the tune of the wind, providing shelter to hundreds of birds and cool breeze to those below!
      ‘Moolatho Brahma roopaaya,
      Madhyatho Vishnu roopinae,
      Agrahta Shivaroopaaya,
      Vriksharajaaya thae namha”
      ” മൂലതോ ബ്രഹ്മ രൂപായ,
      മധ്യതോ വിഷ്ണു രൂപിണെ ,
      അഗ്രത ശിവ രൂപായ.
      വൃക്ഷ രാജായ തെ നമ ”
      I pray, closing my eyes, recollecting the hymn displayed near a similar huge tree in the Sreekanteswaram Temple premises, which I visited earlier.
      Now we talk about the necessity of saving the Nature; our elders worshiped her!. Circumambulated them, in reverence, performed their wedding by tying yellow and saffron threads. ” What a crazy folks!” . But how thoughtful!.
      And there are also, mosquitoes, intentionally flying so high, humming to annoy me, when I am about to slide into sleep, poking my blood vessels and stealthily sucking my blood.. Not even the blood banks are after my blood but these so called insignificant insects are! And they take so much trouble to reach my apartment in the high altitude, to quench their thirst for the blood of an old man!
      The other day, I had been to a similar high-apartment and was pleased to see a harsh-voiced, dark skinned crow, approaching the widow- sill to collect the snacks served affectionately by the house lady, The moment she was sure of the feed, the bird invited her friends and relatives and in group, enjoyed every piece of the food made available.
      I remembered my father anxiously awaiting, on the terrace of our house, holding a ball of rice, sanctified by Vedic hymns, inviting the crows, shouting, ‘ka,ka’ and we, children, behind him, clapping hands and shouting, ‘ka ka’ still louder. The contentment on my father’s face, the moment a crow responds to his shout and pricks with its beak, the white ball of rice, placed on the parapet of the wall, after cleaning the area with water meticulously. If the crow had faced the side where the Sun rises, while collecting the food, my father’s eyes opens up, face brightens with a benign smile. Our father believed that the crow was none other than his forebears in disguise, from another world. What a crazy man, we didn’t say then.
      Even now I don’t say so.The crows do not stealthily suck my blood, when I am about to slide into sleep, after piercing my blood vessel with a sharp needle in its body.The ancestors never suck the blood of their lineage!.
      What a difference between crows and a mosquitoes!

  • My childhood friends chapter 5 'vritha kantakshopam'

    “The black dog costs 30 bucks in this rich country.” Projecting a carry bag, Sam  returned from the duty-free shop in the Dubai airport, where I was waiting to catch my connecting flight to Hyderabad.“White dog might, perhaps, be cheaper.” I commented.
    “Ha, ha, ha, I was not mentioning the cost of a canine”. Displaying a black carton from the paper bag, he explained, the ‘black dog’ is the brand name of this whiskey.”
    “Matters little as I am not interested in either “ I answered.
    Sam  was my classmate in the ‘Padathil’ elementary school and later in the high school. He failed to score enough marks to enter the portal of the Government Victoria College, which was just across our PMM high school. He didn’t weep or leave the house in desperation but his father was sad, as he believed that educational qualification was the only ladder to go up in life.
    I was meeting my school friend after several years. He was in the same flight, but in the executive class, a few seats ahead of mine. “Excuse me, haven’t we met somewhere?”  He came close to me and inquired, adjusting his eye glasses and hearing aids, looking sternly into my eyes.  I scratched my head as I couldn’t locate him. “Vritha kantakshopam”, he whispered into my ear, while a rivulet of smile flew through his withered face.
    Those words stirred my mind and within a moment, emerged the memory of our Samskritham teacher, a soft spoken scholar, who became flamboyant only while teaching the grammar, looking angrily at a boy in trousers up to his knees and viboothi all over his forehead and hands.
    ‘’You are Samkaran”, I was about to scream but controlled my excitement, tried to jump out of my seat to hug him; the strap across my waist prevented.
    “Vritha kantakshopam”- That was how our Sanskrit teacher Bramhasri Ananthanaryana Sarma , encapsulated his anger  after all his efforts to  make Samkaran  recite just one slokam , failed.
    “There is absolutely no meaning in wasting my vocal energy on you,” was the implied meaning of that desperate expression emitted with a sigh.
    The name gifted to him by the parents, following the tradition, was ‘Samkaran’, after his grandfather which got expanded to ‘ Sathanoor Sarveswara iyer  Samkaran’, while printing his passport. His father used to emphasize on ‘m’ and remind him that the letter ‘m’ was not same as ‘n’.  The abbreviation to Sathanoor , from the original Pallanchathanoor, itself was a decision which pained his father, but the less conventional son took the liberty of reducing the length by a few letters.
    After qualifying for a stenographer’s post, he joined a company in Bombay and that was the foundation stone for his raise in career. I used to drop at his home, on the way back from the college and was happy to learn that my friend who missed the college was doing really well in Bombay. Though we didn’t have any contacts, I learned that he had established his own business unit and was prospering.
    Success after success in business lavishly lightening his life, he thought that he had everything and looked upon others as lesser humans. The princess to share his life was yet to be born, he thought and went on rejecting the eligible girls, who applied in response to his matrimonial advertisements as he found none of them fit to share his rich and rosy life.  Birthdays came and passed away. Suddenly he realized that the birthdays were coming too frequently, uninvited. While cutting the birthday cake, amidst the greetings and applause of his friends and sycophants, in the star hotels, he realized that that he was not cutting the soft, sweet cake but the knife was slicing and separating his very life components. Stay in the luxury of star hotels and flying in jets and floating in limousines alone doesn’t make life. Life is for living and he was not living, he thought. With the earning of a few small coins, his father had provided food and shelter for him and his four siblings. His parents created them and developed them. ‘What have I created and whom have I developed?’ he started musing. Those thoughts opened up a floodgate of changes in him. I wanted to create my own and develop my products as my parents did, and leave behind a son or a daughter, who might remember me once a while,when I leave for ever, he started thinking.  Serious searching  for girls from his own community, caste, and religion started, but his attractive profile had something wanting in them, for the girls of his requirement.
    Rosy, his personal assistant, who scrutinized and tabled the matrimonial responses, was a lovely girl.“She is sincere, hard working, neatly files the papers, and efficiently organizes meetings and why not I choose her as the field for my planting?” he asked himself. “No, my parents in the heaven will never agree for this. My Appa did not approve of even a change of alphabet in my name and how will he agree for a lineage from an alien culture?” the other part of his heart questioned.
    Another birthday (damn birthdays, how did they develop wings?’) and all usual tamashas;  more matrimonial advertisements, Rosy neatly arranging and tabulating them but no progress.
    He stopped brooding over that issue. ‘Time for action’ he decided and acted. “Will you marry me?”, he asked Rosy, one fine evening, presenting her a bouquet of flowers and kneeling before her, raising his head in anticipation of a favorable reply.
    ‘Yes”, she cooed and the next Sunday, a priest in colorful attire, declared them husband and wife.
    “If you come late by an hour from the office, I will jump into the Coovam river,” she assured him. The single candle in a star hotel room was the witness for her assurance.
    “Now I know why she mentioned Coovam river and not the Arabian sea,” quipped Sam, flashing a smile, explaining by hand motion, how Rosy touched her heart, while giving that assurance.
    The candle was short-lived; so was their marriage.
    Leaving her two kids, 4 and 2 behind, Rosy went after a rickshaw puller.
    “Rosy married you for your wealth and status but why did she go after a rickshaw-puller, leaving all the luxuries and her own tiny kids, behind?” I inquired.
    “Sivasu, the human mind is very complicated and you can’t explain its intricacy or irrational behavior.  She would have got fed up with the lavishness of luxury and longed for a life of wants”
    “Didn’t you remarry?
    “No, marriage is only once and it has a purpose, Appa used to say”.
    “How did you bring up the children, alone?”
    “No problem, money can purchase any thing and a helper woman was least expensive. She gave my children food and bath and I gave them plenty of love.”  He stood up and wide- opened his hands to show the enormousness, of the love he showered on his children.
    “Oh, ‘money can buy everything’ I didn’t know that.”
    “Don’t be cruel.  I named my Elder son as Sathanoor Samkaran Subramanian ,’ sath’ in short and the younger one, Sathanoor Samkaran  Chithambaran, ‘Chith’ in short .
    “Are they settled in life?”
    “Yes, they are.  Sath married Dharmambal and they have a child, ‘Samkh’ for Samkaran, my name; He is looking after my business and Chith teaches Samskritham in a high school.”
    “Sath is for Sathanoor and Chith Is for Chithambaram, their maternal grandfather, right?” I asked and added with a smile, “and, our Anantharaman Sir’s memory also continues to live?”
    “Yes, it does and it should. He gave me a key to solve my problems” I gazed at him unable to fathom the meaning of his observation.
    “Vritha kantakshopam’ yes, he spared no efforts to teach me but I couldn’t. So, when things go beyond my control, as it happened in the case of my matrimonial attempts and subsequent relationship with Rose, Brahmasri’s ‘vritha kantakshopam’ came to my help and I used to console myself, ‘why waste my efforts and energy on these issues, whose destiny was already finalized?’ That attitude helped me to go forward, instead of sitting in a corner and mourning. Otherwise my children wouldn’t have reached the present level.”
    Hearing the announcement for boarding his flight to London, Sam got up and whispered something silently, before taking leave of me.
    “Reciting some prayers?” I inquired.
    “Yes, Brahamasri’s ‘ Aathmaneyvaathamana bandhu,
    Aathmasya  ripurathmana.’
    Yes, Sivasu, ‘I am my friend, my enemy too’
    “So, you did learn that slokam, at last? “
    “Yes, I did. Learned hard way; such things stay.”
    ‘Hei, Sam, you are leaving behind your white dog, sorry, your black dog.” He turned back and said,“I have no need for that; bought it for you.” He moved a few steps further, paused and turned to tell me, “Dogs are faithful, black or white.”
    I looked deep into his eyes. The thin streak of smile failed to conceal his inner pain.
    “What happened man,  ‘vritha kantakshepam’ has gone ‘vritha-waste?” I inquired, unable to conquer my inner pain on the agony of my classmate.
    He heard but didn’t wait to answer.
    His ‘black dog’ was sitting sad, besides me.
    Love and regards,
    sperinkulam
    Hyderabad
    Nov 30, 2012
    ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
    Comments:

    Dear Sri.Sivasubramanian Perinkulam,

    Good one, I liked it. You have a knack with words and create the scene you describe.
    SVS
    svs_iyer@yahoo.com