Category: A12.01 About me, my family & friends

Sharath, who took me to the USCIS office for the interview enquired the officer whether he could be with me inside, as I might have problem to follow her pronunciation.

‘Don’t worry,’ assured the charming lady smiling, ‘your dad will be fine’.

Here, all officials smile and speak sweetly. Even a doctor conveying to the cancer patient that his days are limited will
flash a sweet smile and tell him, ‘oh, lucky you are! You have three more months to enjoy your life!’.
A techie with twenty years of service was shown the door one fine evening unceremoniously. His CEO came out of her chamber to bid him farewell, hugged him and lamented, ‘we will miss you from tomorrow. Enjoy life’

Enjoyment indeed! That poor man has three school going children and commitments of monthly loans-repayments for house, two cars, three sofa sets, four kitchen garden, five garden tools etc with no saving in the bank!

Here, the youngsters don’t worry about ‘tomorrow’.
They don’t save a cent for the future. Why should they? The banks don’t pay even 1% interest!

The immigration officer led me to her chamber and after making me comfortable in a seat, showed me a piece of paper and asked whether I could read and copy down the one sentence, typed on it.

It was like asking BakAsura whether he would like to have a lamb leg for lunch!

‘One sentence?’, I almost got up from my seat and told her,
‘Madam, I’m a writer. I have a blog with hundreds of followers. I write amazing poetry. Shall I recite a poem applauded by half of the world?’

Without waiting for her approval, I got up from my seat and raising my right hand, as if I was on a stage before a big audience, started;

‘Moon, your music flows in my inner stream, what a melody!’

That was the least response she expected from an old man who
wanted a guide in the interview chamber!

‘Incredible!’ She applauded, convinced of my English proficiency but still asked me to read and write that single sentence. Rule is rule and here everyone follows it, except the mad guys who shoots down people for no reason!

The question session was a child’s play, rather an old man’s play.
I answered all the five questions she asked, accurately, interspersed with interesting jokes.

The next job was to ask me questions related to my personal behavior, family relationship etc, for which I had already given replies, but she had to verify whether my oral answers tallied with my written replies.

Two sample questions :

1-How many times have you been married (including annulled marriages, marriages to other people, and marriages to the same person)?
2- How many times has your current spouse been married (including annulled marriages, marriages to other people, and marriages to the same person)? If your current spouse has been married before, provide the following information about your current spouse’s prior spouse.

Irrelevant for me but it was her duty to ask. I had to reply ‘no’ and she had to ‘tick’ those entries having verified! That is the rule and everybody follows the rule here, except—!

My son who was waiting outside was worried. ‘Is she grilling dad and is he struggling to answer?’, was his worry, whereas inside, we both were happily discussing about general issues like Indian family bond and English literature!

After full forty five minutes, the charming lady, came out with me holding my hand and handing over me to my son said, ‘your dad did a good job. Congrats ‘

After a couple of days, Megh took me for the ‘oath taking’.

She was keenly watching my facial expression worrying weather I would be able to withstand the mental strain while
uttering the oath dictated.

“I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.”

I did take the oath, with choked throat.

‘Are you OK, dad?’, enquired Megh while coming out of hall, though she knew that I was not all that ‘OK’.

‘Compromise in life, at times becomes a necessity,’ I told her.
And told myself: ‘you didn’t do a favour to your children but only ensured that you don’t land in a vrudhasramam, old age home’

To continue

 

More than three years ago when I landed in America, I had no plan to stay for more than 6/7 months, as was my earlier practice, but various developments made me to stay, so long. But for the necessity of taking care of my sick brother, I will not be going even now, as my health is like a post -war battle field. My children have no confidence in my fitness to travel alone and hence Megh is escorting me.

Many good and bad things happened- some really good, some, really bad, during my present visit. Our family strength increased, new houses were bought and I could witness the celebrations like Grehapravesam, Seemantham, graduation ceremonies etc. Could also make a trip to Vancouver to be with my sister and her son’s family for more than a month.

On the minus side, the sudden death of my nephew was the biggest blow. The passing away of my mother in law was sad, but a good thing to have happened. Had she lived longer, she would have suffered more.

I became a US citizen. It was not an easy decision to take.
All my children are here and they don’t want me to stay alone in India. With a OCI card, I can come and go anytime. Stay as long as I want here or in India. Emotionally, I was not prepared to forego my indian citizenship but my deteriorating health during the past one year told me, to push my sentiments to a corner and go by the naked practicality. The practical thing is to be with my children!.

I’m lucky indeed to have an amazingly helping family, for whom my comforts are the top priority. They affection is not a ‘stage show’ as someone said uncharitably in a different context, pushing horses and donkeys into the same stable.
When I count the blessings, the ‘kanishtikAdishtitham’ ( the one to start with counting by my little finger), is the sincere support, love and affection of not only my children and their spouses but that of my siblings their children and spouses and my sambandhies and other close relatives too.

Nothing more I can ask for,  from my creator.

(To continue )

The happiest thing to happen in the life of a married couple is to have a child. But you don’t get a baby for a song!. The mother has to suffer immeasurable physical and mental pain while carrying and at the time of delivery. Raising a child involves sacrifices. The parents have to undergo a lot of stress and strain even after the child is grown up and became a father.
They are aways anxious about their son or daughter’s welfare irrespective of their age.

With all that, when the child addresses you, affectionately or angrily, ‘ mom or dad’, you forget everything. All the sufferings vanish. The joy is the same even after the child has grown up and has his own child.

For the parents, a child is a child always.

Yesterday, I was discussing with Megh the mental turbulence me and my wife had to pass through, when she was carrying our first child. A gynecologist friend feared that due to my wife’s previous medication the child might be deficient in brain development. She even went to the extend of advising the termination of the pregnancy. Alarming was her suspicion and also her solution but we were very clear in our mind that come what may, we were going to have the child. But imagine the mental agony we had to pass through during the period of pregnancy.
When the baby was born and certified as was in perfect physical and mental health, tears rolled down from our eyes and that moment is unforgettable. I touched every nook and corner of the baby to make sure that he was fine. Counted his fingers and toes, looked at the size of the head from near and far and did all sorts of monkey tricks to ensure that the baby was normal in all respects.

After bringing him home, when I saw a blooming baby in the cradle, unknowingly a pet name came out of the depth of my heart and I uttered rather loudly, with eyes about to shed water, ‘Kutta!’
He is still Kutta for me though he has fathered a Kuttan and a kutti, a son and a daughter.

Only parents will understand the feeling of another parent.
In marriage sex has an important role but it is the emotional involvements of the pair that counts most.

 

There was a woman who knew my in and out and she is on sabbatical now. There are two now in her place, my daughter and daughter in law. They know accurately the climate change in my mind, so precisely, the former by hearing my voice on phone and the latter by watching my face. These two know exactly how many trains run in my mental metro station, in what direction and in what frequency.

‘Appa, what troubles you?’
‘Nothing, Megh’
‘Ok. Lie down for sometime’
‘But pray why? I’m fit like a fiddle’
‘You are. That is why you should lie down for five minutes’

‘Konthai, your voice is shaking. What is happening?’ -Aparna.
‘Voice will shake. Voice will break. Voice will crack. I’m not twenty years old’

‘See, my guess was accurate. Relax. You are not the guardian of the world. Things will move and there are others to push. Relax’

‘Why should I ? I can run like a bullet train’
‘You can, I know. The iPad is in your hand, is it not?’
‘Nothing is in my hand. Nothing. Everything has gone away from my hand’
‘Ok, you are not going to India’

That works. She is her mother’s daughter. Knows which screw to tight’

I quietly go to my bed, like an obedient baby, sleep for two hours, get up fresh, when Megh waits with a hot, hot cup of coffee and some snacks.

‘I’m not hungry, Meghana’
‘You are. Just eat two pieces’
I eat five!

 

When Megh took me to the clinic of the Urologist along with my PSA result, for the first time, Sometime in the mid last year, he staff at the counter asked her, before registration,
‘he, the patient?’.

I looked behind me to know whom she was referring to. None was there. ‘ Then, me, the patient ?’, I asked myself. The computer ribbon with the message,’one in every six American has prostate cancer’,
was running through the wall. So, me a prostrate cancer patient?

I was in sound health for my age. I could walk, climb stairs, sing, dance, jump to a reasonable height, had good appetite, sleep well, smile, laugh, shout and me a cancer patient?

Yes, I had prostrate cancer, as the subsequent tests proved. And finally, when it was confirmed, the initial shock was gone and I settled Comfortably to the inedible truth that I was a patient.

Shanthi, Shanthi, Shanthi!

Not only that, I was elated( yes, I’m using the correct word) that the malignancy was only( yes, here again, I’m using the apt word) on the prostrate and not in my stomach in which case my Aayush, life was expected to last only for another two or three months.

See how we settle with our misfortunes, bad time, ill luck, when we realize that it is inevitable!

People lose their properties, limbs, jobs, close relatives, name, fame, everything in life but once the initial shock is overcome, they have won the battle. Unfortunately, some are not able to overcome the shock and go to the extreme of extinguishing their life frame.

he extreme.

Athai ( aunt, not any aunt, only father’s sister) and mama ( uncle, not any uncle, mother’s brother) represent two important relationship in the paternal and maternal sides, respectively, in our families. The VAdhyAr, before calling for aarati to conclude any function at home, invites athai and mama, for their blessings. In the olden days, they used to bless the concerned and gift a ‘panam’ or a coin .

In the olden days, the daughter of the house was often given in marriage to a groom from a distant place and for her, a function in her parental home provides an ideal opportunity to meet her kin. I had only one living Athai when I was born who was married off at an young age of 9/10, to a Brahmin in a village called Kapisthalam, near Papanasam, Tanjore. She came back home only once to see her mother, my grand mother, during the upanayanam of mine and my brother. She left her maternal home wearing a pavadai and returned after several years, wearing the attire of a widow along with her daughter also in the same dress and two grandsons of 16/18. That was their first and last visit, though my father went once to meet his sister.

Some 6/7 years before, when I made a trip to Thanjavur, tried to locate their house which was impossible as I didn’t have with me their address. Athai would have passed away and perhaps her daughter too . I am mentioning this to emphasize why Athai is given such a prominent place in our family. So is mama, who goes for earning his livelihood to a distant place and comes back only to lift his niece above his shoulder to help her garlanding the bridegroom who too elevated by his uncle.

In my wife’s house, the Athai, who became a window soon after her marriage at 9/10 was the backbone of the family.
Now fortunately, the situation has changed. My children’s Meena Athai visit America often and other two Athai’s too, though not that regularly. Compare the distance between Hyderabad and New Jersey vis a vis Palakkad and Papanasam!
In the pictures below
1- My daughter Aparna with her two Athais during their recent USA trip.
2- My eldest son Sharath with his Athai and Athimbar when they travelled together to Switzerland, a few years before.
3-Atchu and Aparna with their mama , patti and Chithy at my Hyderabad home ‘Anantha Jyothy’.
and
4- Srikanth with his Meena Athai .

A closely knitted family is a bliss and the responsibility for that rests mainly on the shoulders of the daughters in law.

I went to attend a relative’s wedding in a suburb of TVM in a peak summer. After the Janwasam and night food on the previous night, I found the big hall earmarked as bedroom for us was already occupied by elders, mostly women, and in a few vacant slots under fans, the Sasthapreethi goers had already reserved their beds in advance by spreading thorthumundus, small towels or bedsheets.

I belonged to the bridegroom’s group and was eligible for special treatment. The girl’s uncle came running apologetically and led me to a room reserved for Nadaswaram troupe.

‘Where will they sleep?’, I enquired

‘Don’t worry about them. They will sleep under the huge neem tree in the frontage’

I jumped on that idea and said, ‘let them sleep in this room; I will go and sleep in the open, under the tree’

Without waiting for his consent, I moved to the open court yard. Seeing my forward movement, my children joined me and then my wife too. Booking rooms in hotels for guests was not in practice those days and moreover there were no good hotels in that place.
The bridegroom, a smart guy was watching my movement and he too wanted to join us to enjoy sleep under the star – studded sky. He knew that from the next night onwards, there would be only one star other than him in a closed room and therefore he wanted to avail the last chance to enjoy the company of many stars.

‘Nee onnum velilae paduthukkapdaathu,’ restrained the groom’s uncle. ‘No, you should not sleep outside ‘. Then turning to me he said, ‘you, you are the trouble maker’

I enjoyed his angry mood and asked, ‘are you afraid that the bride too will join him, following the footsteps of her cousin ( my wife )?

Anyway, we enjoyed the sleep- out. While taking leave of the hosts, the bridegroom’s mother, my wife’s aunt, took me aside and admonished,’ manathai vaankineer Palakkadu Brahmana!’
‘You put us to shame by sleeping outside. You are the Mappillai , son in law of this family and what a shame, we could not provide you a good bedroom!’

I pacified her, ‘don’t worry. We enjoyed the open air which was more comfortable than a star hotel. If you don’t believe my words, ask your niece ‘

Recently when her grand son’s wedding took place in Chennai, she sent me a handwritten note along with the wedding invitation: ‘assured, accommodation in a five star hotel!’

I have always enjoyed lying in open air, facing the sky, which was unthinkable here in Baltimore till a couple of days before, as the winter was choking and squeezing us for the past over six months.

I availed the first opportunity and tried to do one or two Sooryanamskarams and some simple physical exercises, today.
But my system has become weak due to the powerful rays and medicines pushed into it. To some extend, however, my legs moved up.
‘Not further, please,’ they begged.

A poetry hatched by the warmth of the wind :

Overwhelmed by joy I’m, when my eyes and ears
Hands and legs hear me and obey my orders.
Yes, my limbs obey me!

Who am I, an orderly of the Big Boss
Who makes the Sun, the Moon and stars to glow
And rivers to flow.

My limbs will obey me as my orders are His orders
And when I’m called back, they will lie flat
Like the chopped wings of a bat’

 

 

 

The  sky is about fall on your head. Can you do anything about it?

Yes, I can. I will move to left, right, front, back.

Man, it is not a kite or crow drop that is falling. It is the sky. Wherever you go, it will fall on your head. Can you do anything?

I can’t. Now, I realize the gravity of the situation. I can do nothing.

Yes, it may not exactly be the sky, but it may be any other situation on which we have no control.

And, on such situations, nothing can be done other than facing the problem.

My Venku chithammai patty of Perinkulam, had a simple solution to face all such situations:

‘Pahavaanae, Saranam!’

Her Pahavaavan is our God. Saranam you know, surrender.

God, I surrender to You.

I have done that many times. And escaped from getting crushed by not one sky, but many skies.

One smart guy used the above mantram successfully, at 35, when he was asked by his parents, to marry a girl, whom he had’t met or even photo seen.

Raising his head and hands up, he looked up and said the mantram,
‘Phahvanae, Saranam!

What happened? He escaped from that marriage?

No. He had a wonderful married life and now he is the proud father of four adorable children and dearest friend of six amazing grand children.

He is no one else, but me !

Jamuns take back to childhood days

There was a jamun tree, in the timber storage yard behind our house at Olavakkode. It belonged to Janab Unnikkammu Saheb. He was only Unnikkamu but when he became a rich business man, his name expanded with a prefix and suffix. There was a mosque and an elementary school for Muslim kids, in the premises, which too belonged to him.
As children in the next neighborhood, our interest was the jamun fruits, which were ripe and lay spread on the ground, like a velvet carpet. We were given free entry into the depot as the Mullah of the mosque, the guardian of the premises, was Appa’s friend. Had we then known about the nutritive value of the Jamun fruits we would have collected those in baskets and brought home. Instead, we bit a few, ate the pulp, threw the seeds there itself and went back home.

It was ok, as we were children then.

But it was not Ok, when I grew up and was expected to know the value of opportunities. Instead of making use of the opportunities, chances, effectively, I threw the fruits then and there onto the dust, without even biting and tasting the pulp. During my young days, I discarded only the seeds after chewing and enjoying the pulp of the fruits.

Now, that tree is not there. Even if I wanted to collect a truck-full, it is not possible. When the tree itself is not there from where will the fruits come ? The mosque, the elementary school, a Mullah, timber depot. all are there, but not the jamun tree. And for jamun fruits, you need a jamun tree!

Many of you would have been familiar with the famous four liner attributed to Mahakavi Kalidasa, ending with, ‘Gulu, guggulu, guggulu’

The king throws in the court the fourth line of a verse, ‘gulu, guggulu, guggulu’, as a part of Samasyapooranam, an intelligent past time, play with words.

In the mind of the great Poet appears the scene which he used to observe during his walk. He recalls the sound when ripe fruits from the branches shaken by monkeys fall into the clear waters . Instantly comes out a verse with ‘Gulu guggulu, guggulu as the fourth line:

Jambhool phalaani pakwaani
Padanthi vimale jalae
Kapikampitha saakhaayam
Gulu, guggulu, guggulu’

There is another version that Kalidasa, while strolling along with the king, saw the fruits falling from the branches shaken by monkeys and instantly composed the verse.

‘It was not Kalidasa’, claim some scholars.

I’m least bothered.
The stanza sounds sweet, imaginative and interesting and it would be difficult to compose instantly another one, as attractive as this, with the limited option of the fourth line.

Glad to inform my friends that the first chapter of my treatment was over today, with the last dose of the Harmone injection. Originally, six monthly doses were prescribed, now reduced to four. So much so good.
What the nurse pushed into my system will play havoc for a few days, I know from experience. She too knows that from books but she smiled intentionally while unintentionally, I looked into her eyes. Her concentration was on my navel area around which she would select a holy dot to push in the powerful medicine.
‘Do you know the value of my ‘thoppul’ or naabhi ? I wanted to ask her. Were a male nurse, I would has asked, but not to a female. My time is bad. Why invite problems?
For the nurse, male or female, It is only a scar on my abdomen, called ‘umbilicus’. There are many scars on the body and this is one among those!
No, lady with a syringe needle in hand, it is not just a scar. It is a perpetual monument to remind my relationship with my mother!it is the holy spot which connected me with her, through the umbilical! She nourished me through the cord which was sticking to my navel, which you now call a ‘scar’! Had I the wisdom which I have now, when I was born, I would have preserved a piece of the long chord and worshipped. But another lady of your clan, holding a pair of scissors in her hand, cut it off merciless.
I was about to get up from the exam. table and grab the hand of the nurse when appeared before my eyes the ever enchanting form of Anantha Padmanabha, reclining on a multi hooded serpent, a long lotus stem projecting from his ‘naabhi ‘ at the top of which was a blooming lotus on which was seated Brahma with four heads turning and looking at all the four sides ready to create, men, women, animals, birds, insects everything , everything!
‘Anantha Padmanabham aasrayae’ I wanted to sing.
No chance, no words were coming out. I wanted to tell her at least, ‘my naval is my center of gravity. What an amazing brain it was to suspend me to my mother’s womb through a chord, from the exact center of my body? Praise to Him!
‘Yesunathar Paadinaal avar enna paaduvar?’
No luck. No words were coming out of my mouth.
I was not moving out of the table!
Time was running out. Other patients were awaiting some on wheel chair, some slanting on the arm or shoulder of the life partner and some simply looking at the roof wondering what past crime or habit, brought them there. The nurse looked at my pulse, which was precise to the text book reading .There was no need for Megh to see my pulse as her natural brain scanner which records every vibration in my internal cells and external skin told her that things were perfectly normal with me.
So, she whispered into my ears, Appa, ‘chakka pazham – Jack fruit’, which I like most, but for which, there is a ration card!
I got up from the table with a jerk, like the Kalpathy or Perinkulam chariot, given a push from the back by a huge pachyderm, like lazy Ammalu, wasting her time reading Ananda Vikatan and Kalki, when a picture of Ammini or Paru, Karthyayani or KalyAni , drops from the gaps of the pages.
When I walked towards the gate, through the long corridors, the nurse was watching from the back, till my shadow disappeared from her sight.
‘When is his next appointment?,’ she enquired the reception girl.
‘Over; no more shots for him’
She thanked Saint Patrick as it was his day yesterday.
Ps. Below is a drawing of the Vitruvian Man by Leonardo da Vinci, to show the navel as the center in the circle – drawing from the Internet.