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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 !